


Pilgrimage/The Prodigal

by jamelia116



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Bajor, F/M, Returning Home, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116
Summary: Pilgrimage: Tuvok's wife T'Pel travels to Deep Space Nine. She is certain he still lives. Does Captain Benjamin Sisko hold the key to what really happened to her husband and Voyager?The Prodigal: T'Pel knows her husband is alive on Voyager, but she cannot help wondering how much longer their separation will last. She feels a kinship with Kasidy Yates, whose husband Ben Sisko has been transformed into a Wormhole alien. When a message from Starfleet arrives, T'Pel's long wait is over, but the arrival of a second message suggests disturbing news about Tuvok's health.





	1. Pilgrimage

**Pilgrimage**

by **J.A. Toner, aka "Jamelia"**

Usually, Odo would have been the first to notice. Had Doctor Julian Bashir not been on Bajor helping medical authorities search for a cure for a virus that threatened the southern hemisphere, the young doctor might well have beaten Jake to the punch. As it was, Jake was the first to bring her to his father's attention. Once Benjamin Sisko actually saw her, he understood his son Jake's fascination with her.

"Dad, have you seen that Vulcan woman? The one that's been floating around the Promenade for the last few days?" At his father's negative response, Jake went on, "She must be one of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I was hoping you knew who she was. No one I've asked seems to know."

Challenged, Captain Sisko made it his business to find out.

When he observed her from the upper level of the Promenade the next morning, Sisko was almost as intrigued by her as Jake had been. As the tall, slender figure glided tranquilly down the Promenade's lower level, her swirling deep purple robes seemed to ward off the crowds that hurried by her. If one was to mix the serene detachment of the quintessential Vulcan with the elegant beauty of Nefertiti, the result might be the bronze-skinned woman below him.

As he watched her pass, the captain became aware of another being standing at his elbow. "Who is she, Odo?"

"She is called Doctor T'Pel, a scientist from Vulcan, visiting Deep Space Nine to do 'research' according to the passenger manifest from her arrival. I have no idea what kind of research, as she does not seem to have availed herself of any facilities here I would presume one would wish to use for research purposes. Given the current threats to the station from the Cardassians and the Dominion, this does not seem to be a very good time to visit here for such an activity."

The captain faced his chief of security and resident professional skeptic. "It might also be difficult to do some kinds of research if the station were to be overrun by the Dominion. It would be logical to try to complete it before that happens."

"Logical. Yes, of course." Odo's raspy voice drew out the syllables, making it clear that he himself did not find that argument compelling.

"You have not had an opportunity to speak with her, then?"

"No, one of my assistants happened to greet her transport vessel. And she hasn't done anything to warrant my approaching her since."

That was to change by the end of the day.

"Excuse me, Doctor T'Pel, is it? This particular pylon is reserved for Starfleet and Bajoran Security Force vessels. Entry is restricted to authorized personnel only."

"It is I that must be excused then, Constable Odo. Please accept my apologies for disregarding your rules."

Odo had always found Vulcans to be a quite inscrutable people. Their faces, by and large, were difficult for him to read, despite their strongly defined features - much the way that his own partially completed visage was for many a humanoid. He could not shake the feeling, however, that the woman did not truly wish to apologize. While her words begged pardon, her dark eyes were scanning the organic curves of the corridor leading to the turbolift that serviced Pylon One's topmost docking port. Odo got the impression that she was memorizing each and every detail, intending to study them in her mind's eye later, for some unknowable purpose.

After shooing Doctor T'Pel away in his most pleasant manner, Odo accompanied her out of the area silently. Vulcans were not much for small talk, he knew.

When they arrived at the Promenade, Odo's concerns were alleviated by the doctor's exceedingly courteous manner as they parted company. The woman walked placidly toward the line of shops, considerably dwindled in number due to the ever increasing threat of a Cardassian/Dominion invasion. Turning into Quark's to uncover the latest challenge to his authority the Ferengi had presented, Odo was confident that the matter of the Vulcan woman had been quite satisfactorily resolved.

=/\=

"My security chief said that he had to remove you from a restricted area twice today. Why?" Sisko viewed the beautiful but implacable face before him. Her eyes met his unflinchingly.

"I wished to visit Docking Port Six on that pylon, Captain."

Sisko picked up his baseball and began to finger it. He had served enough time with Vulcans in various Starfleet postings to know that if he did not phrase everything perfectly, this Doctor T'Pel would find a completely logical way to omit the answer that he needed to elicit from her.

"You were told that that area is restricted to Starfleet and Bajoran security?"

"Yes, Captain. Your Constable Odo was good enough to warn me." Hardly a blink from her.

"Constable Odo has not mentioned your connection to Starfleet, and I find it quite difficult to believe you are a member of any of the security forces on Bajor."

"I do have a connection to Starfleet, Captain. My husband is a Starfleet officer."

Her obsidian eyes still looked in his direction, but now they lost their focus. Sisko could tell she no longer saw him.

"I fail to see why that gives you permission to go into an area you are not authorized to enter." Or why she wanted to go into a currently deserted area at all, of course, but he controlled his impatience. Proceeding logically and carefully was the best, the only, course to follow.

She returned from the place to which she had momentarily traveled to again focus her eyes upon Sisko. "My husband is Lieutenant Tuvok. Of the starship  _Voyager_."

"I see." Sisko stood up and walked over to look out the circular window in his office, still rolling the baseball in his hands. "My condolences for your loss." He clenched the ball suddenly as he felt a remembered stab of pain wash over him. How many times had these same words been said to him after he had lost Jennifer? How little did they mean to him then? Even now, really? Empty words ultimately, socially correct, but unable to cushion the blow felt at losing a spouse, or anyone else close, for that matter.

Many would say that uttering such customary, impersonal words to his visitor would not even matter. Vulcans had no feelings to upset. He knew otherwise.

"I thank you, Captain, as I recognize your intent is to comfort me. I do not, however, have any need to be comforted. You see, I am quite certain that my husband is still alive. I am trying to find out if that is so, or if, as my children have told me, I am merely being . . . emotional . . . about my loss."

The captain turned toward his visitor and looked upon her with astonishment. "Your own children said  _that_  to you?"

Doctor T'Pel achieved eye contact with the captain again. The loosening of tension around the eyes and the smoothing of the brow which the astute observer would recognize as a Vulcan's appreciation of a humorous statement appeared. "I see you have had experience with those of my race, Captain. 'Emotional, or quite insane,' as my eldest son put it. I did my best to maintain my equilibrium in the face of this statement, but I confess that it was . . . disruptive . . . to my concentration."

"I imagine it would be." Captain Sisko, not being forced by cultural imperatives to maintain a poker face, grinned broadly. The grin faded, however, as he realized that there was little he could do for this woman to change her son's opinion, given the facts concerning  _Voyager's_  disappearance.

The widow leaned forward in her chair as she continued, "It became clear that the only way to remove skepticism from the minds of my children and colleagues was to find out what I could about Tuvok's mission. I traveled to Starfleet Headquarters on Earth, but apart from what I had already learned from newsnet reports, nothing was shared with me. The single fact of significance is that _Voyager's_ final port of call was Deep Space Nine. I have come here, Captain Sisko, to find out if there is anyone who knows some small thing which has been previously overlooked but which may be important - something which may give me a clue as to what actually occurred to  _Voyager_."

"Doctor T'Pel, you must appreciate that we were hip-deep in Starfleet investigators when  _Voyager_ first disappeared. I very much doubt you will be able to find out anything more at this late date." He did not bother to add that if Admiral Owen Paris had been unable to find out anything about his wastrel son during his frantic visit two months after the disappearance, there was undoubtedly nothing to find three years later. Benjamin Sisko did not like to speak ill of the dead, however, even of such a man as Thomas Paris.

"I would like permission to try, Captain."

The commandant of Deep Space Nine thoughtfully appraised his visitor as he seated himself again at his desk, returning the baseball to rest in its holder. "I would be inclined to give that permission, as long as my conditions are met."

"Please state the conditions, so that I may decide if I can meet them."

Even for a Vulcan, this was a cool customer. "There is only one, really. If you desire to enter a restricted area again, you are to request clearance from Odo or myself so that we may assign an escort. I don't want to set the precedent that any relative of a missing Starfleet officer may wander anywhere around my station unsupervised."

"A perfectly reasonable condition, Captain; I accept."

There was something in her reply that told Sisko he may have been maneuvered into providing her with exactly what she had wanted all along. Since it was so delicately done, he chose to ignore it, saying only, "I'm glad we've come to this understanding."

"Captain, would it be possible to ask a favor of you?"

"Yes?"

"May I have that escort now? I wish to visit Docking Port Six on Upper Pylon One."

She was persistent, he would grant her that.

=/\=

Cadet Nog was only too glad to be assigned the pleasant duty of squiring the beautiful female around the station. Before they had even left Ops, Jake Sisko just happened to drop by to speak to his father about their dinner plans for that evening. Young Mr. Sisko was invited along for the tour of Docking Port Six on Upper Pylon One and allowed himself to be convinced to go.

After the tourist and her entourage had filed out of his office, Sisko tried to figure out exactly how Nog had managed to signal Jake from right under Sisko's nose without him being able to catch wind of it. Of course, the two friends had had lots of practice with such machinations over the years.

The captain had more important things to do at the moment. Giving himself a mental shake, he called  _Voyager's_  crew manifest onto his computer screen.

It was strange, but Sisko did not recall meeting Lieutenant Tuvok at the dinner he had given for the bridge officers of  _Voyager_  during their call at the station. He had met Captain Kathryn Janeway before, shortly after she assumed her first command, when Sisko was executive officer of the  _Saratoga_. She had impressed him then as an officer who would definitely be going places. The others he had never met previously, but their images refreshed his memory: Lieutenant Commander Cavit, Doctor Fitzgerald, Lieutenant Stadi, Ensign Kim. Perhaps Lieutenant Tuvok had been holding down the fort on  _Voyager_ that evening. Now that he thought about it, though, Sisko was sure that he had seen the Vulcan officer somewhere, but the memory was elusive. It would be more likely to come to him if he did not dwell upon the subject.

Switching to the Starfleet Intelligence file of those lost on the Maquis ship, Sisko found, unsurprisingly, that there was much less information available. Only four images of Maquis personnel were available: their leader Chakotay, an ex-Starfleet Lieutenant Commander; ex-Starfleet Lieutenant j.g. Michael Ayala; Starfleet Academy Engineering-track dropout B'Elanna Torres; and a Betazed native named Lon Suder who once had been arrested on suspicion of murder on Quedria III. He had fled while free on bail. Sisko noted that the Quedrian warrant for Suder's arrest was still active.

After reviewing what was available on the Maquis, Sisko called up the file of the "observer," paroled convict Thomas E. Paris, the admiral's son. Sisko was nonplused by Paris' service record. The young man had a reputation as a drunk, a gambler, and a Maquis traitor, yet up until the Caldik Prime incident, his record had been excellent, in fact, close to exemplary. As he read about the court martial and viewed the image of the fresh-faced young officer who had been forced out of Starfleet in disgrace, Sisko wondered uneasily if being an admiral's son had caused young Paris to be treated more harshly than another might have been in a similar situation.

It was all such a waste, not just Paris, but all of them,  _Voyager_ and Maquis crews alike, lost so needlessly in the Badlands.

The captain understood how difficult it must be for those who were left behind when people just disappeared like that. He had been emotionally paralyzed for years after losing Jennifer, and he had seen her lying dead, pinned beneath the wreckage of their quarters in the  _Saratoga_. For your loved one to simply not be there any more, no wreckage, no confirmation of the loss available - Sisko could see how one could remain in denial for many years, perhaps even a lifetime.

Feeling that he had spent enough time with such depressing thoughts, Deep Space Nine's commander switched off the screen and turned to some other pressing duties. A report to Starfleet Headquarters was due, outlining the status of the improvements being made in the weapons array in the face of imminent invasion. An even more cheerful subject, he thought sardonically, but one that had to be done.

=/\=

"Dad, do you know how old Doctor T'Pel is?"

"Couldn't even guess. Somewhere between 50 and 150? I know she has a son old enough to call her crazy."

"Dad!" Jake shook his head, laughing, as he helped his father clean up after their excellent bouillabaisse dinner. Father and son had prepared the meal from Ben's father's recipe, a featured item on the menu of his New Orleans restaurant. They had not had the opportunity for enough of these family dinners lately. It had become a rare treat for them to be together in the evening.

"I take it that you enjoyed your visit with her, then?"

"There's a story there, Dad, I know it. A fiction piece, if not a news story. She is convinced that Tuvok is still alive. She says she 'senses' it. I guess she can't admit that she 'feels' it, right?" At the sight of his father's eyebrow, raised in the Vulcan manner, Jake smiled. "Did you know her husband served with Captain Sulu on the  _Exselsior_?"

The other eyebrow raised in surprise. "No, I didn't. I knew he had been an instructor at Starfleet Academy, but I never met the man when I was there. At least, I don't believe I have. He does look familiar from the picture of him that I saw today." Sisko's memory tickled him again. There was something about Tuvok that was important. He wished he could recall what it was.

Trying to grapple with his cerebral cortex to give up its zealously guarded secret information about  _Voyager's_  chief security and tactical officer, Sisko only half-listened as Jake rambled on concerning the couple's family and about how T'Pel and Tuvok met for the first time on the day they were married. This last was unusual. Obviously they had not been betrothed as children, as was customary, but instead had been brought together by the _pon farr_ and had remained together afterward. Sisko's full attention was again captured when Jake began to speak of Doctor T'Pel's work.

". . . and this new technology is really interesting because it would be invisible to everyone. People could even pass through the equipment without any problem at all . . ."

"Jake, what did you say Doctor T'Pel did again?"

"She's a medical researcher. She was hoping to talk to Julian about this new technology she's developing that permits people from light gravity planets move around without cumbersome equipment. The actual device is in another dimension." Jake looked at his father's face, which suddenly glowed with comprehension. "You've heard of it, Dad?"

"Um, no, Jake I haven't. It's an interesting concept, though, isn't it?"

They chatted on for quite a while afterward. Sisko no longer felt he had to spend much time pondering the question of where he had previously seen Tuvok. Once Jake went to bed, Sisko was free to call up the  _Voyager_  personnel files again.

He was right; he had seen that face before. This time, viewing the Vulcan officer's image prompted a more thorough search through Starfleet Intelligence files, some of which required his highest security clearances. The source of the information about Chakotay's Maquis cell became clear. As the file verified, there was quite a story here.

=/\=

She was waiting for him at Quark's, as he had expected. For her to be less than prompt was unthinkable. "Doctor, I'm happy that you could meet me."

As she turned to face him, Sisko was struck again by her ageless beauty. It was impossible to know the exact number of her years by looking at her, although if Tuvok had served with Sulu and she was even close to her husband in age, she had to be one hundred years old or thereabouts. Four children and a granddaughter also bespoke an age which was not discernable on her features.

They conversed for several minutes with what passed for Vulcan small talk. T'Pel listed the names and occupations of her family and asked about Sisko's own, bobbing her head in silent sympathy when he told her of his loss of his wife at Wolf 359. Having heard that Sisko was the Bajoran Emissary, T'Pel inquired about the religious beliefs and political system of Bajor. He answered her as succinctly as he could before steering their talk towards the destination to which he had intended from the beginning.

"Jake was telling me a little about your work, Doctor. It sounds fascinating. We could certainly apply it here on Deep Space Nine to accommodate some visitors who cannot currently set foot on the station without some very bulky equipment."

Vulcans were resistant to flattery, but they were not immune. "I believe it would be most helpful to you here, Captain. It could also be utilized by Federation diplomats and Starfleet personnel on worlds with gravity too heavy to be visited without special, protective anti-gravity vehicles. We can establish a moving anti-grav field which supports not only the limbs but the internal structure of the visitor as well, preventing health problems that can occur during a long stay in crushingly heavy gravity relative to that of the visitor's native planet. My colleagues and I have also identified other applications. For example, we can assist the mobility of those who have been injured so severely that permanent limitations result, despite the most advanced medical care."

"The equipment is invisible, according to Jake."

"Not entirely, Captain. There are some bands that are worn under the clothing to support the body and limbs by directing the anti-grav field in the proper way for the limbs to move. The actual generating equipment, however, is out of phase with the rest of our reality. Except for a control panel, which connects the supports with the generator that is shifted out of phase, all is invisible to the eye and imperceptible to the other senses. The original idea was germinated from multi-phasic technology, although something my husband once told me was also an influence. Something which he had learned from Captain Sulu during his time with him: the Mirror Universe."

The Vulcan scientist was looking at him expectantly, hoping for confirmation of the hypothesis that undoubtedly had led her to Deep Space Nine. Disseminating the information she wanted was supposedly forbidden, but this would not be the first time that Ben Sisko had disclosed something "off the record." Besides, strict adherence to the restrictions made little sense for those who already were aware of the Mirror Universe. If she knew many of the details, a lot of exposition would be unnecessary.

"Doctor, would you like to take a short trip in a runabout with me? I promise to be on my best behavior."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Captain," she replied.

As they walked together down the corridor toward the runabout, the tall man with his long, powerful stride provided a cursory overview of his reasons for taking this trip to his companion. Although his legs were much longer than hers despite her queenly height, the Vulcan woman matched him step for step without showing the slightest sign of exertion. He concluded, "This is all highly classified, you realize."

She bowed her head slowly. "I understand, Captain. No one will hear the details from me, I assure you."

"I would expect nothing less of you, Doctor." He smiled at her as he echoed her earlier reply to him. If one could not trust a Vulcan to keep something private, no one could be trusted.

When they arrived at the runabout, Sisko paused briefly to inform Major Kira Nerys, his second in command, of his intention to take a short flight with a guest. Her confusion intensified when he relayed his intended coordinates to her, but her only comment was, "You're sure this is a good time for that, Captain?"

"I feel it is necessary. We won't be gone long."

Only after the  _Vltava_ had been cleared for departure and was headed towards the coordinates he had named could Ben Sisko relax. Keeping his eyes on the helm console while T'Pel sat stoically next to him, Sisko related the story of his visits to Terok Nor in the Mirror Universe, where a man who was your best friend in this reality might gleefully torture you in that one. He told her of how he had taken the place of that universe's deceased Ben Sisko, a man he would have had little use for if they had met here. After describing a universe in which Bajorans, Cardassians, and Klingons were allies while humans were slaves, Sisko told T'Pel that she might hate the Mirror Universe Tuvok - if the man Sisko saw there was not T'Pel's own Tuvok, a castaway in that other universe along with his friends and foes.

"I only saw him that one time, Doctor. I cannot be sure that it was your husband. He may well have been the Tuvok of the Mirror Universe, as the Ben Sisko I replaced had belonged there. It was after  _Voyager_ was lost, however, so it is possible."

"Can we go there now, Captain?" she said, quickly enough for him to read eagerness into her response. Despite all that he had told her, the desire to find Tuvok overrode any other consideration.

"It would not be advisable at any time, and I especially cannot risk it now, Doctor; not with the Alpha Quadrant steeling itself for an invasion from the Dominion."

His companion looked down, exhaling a little more heavily than was usual. Sisko went on, "I promise you, Doctor, once we have returned to the station I will again review all of the personnel files from  _Voyager_ and from the Maquis vessel, to see if I can recognize anyone else. From my review yesterday, I must admit, I do not believe that there was anyone else. Even if there were, I have no way of knowing whether or not the person was someone who had lived there his or her entire life. It seems that people are drawn to the same sector of space in both universes, to judge from our experiences."

She had been trained to hide her feelings since early childhood. To look at her now, T'Pel seemed impassive, yet Sisko sensed an emptiness beneath her lack of emotion that was telling. Even a Vulcan needs something to look forward to, even though the word "hope" might not be mentioned.

"Doctor T'Pel, there is one other thing that I will do for you and your husband. When we return to Deep Space Nine, I will make sure that my staff studies the images that we have available of the missing personnel from both vessels. Should contact ever be made again with the Mirror Universe, we will search for your husband and his missing companions from  _Voyager_ and the Maquis ship."

"This is quite acceptable, Captain. I realize that you can do no more at this critical juncture." T'Pel caught her breath, a surprising sound coming from her, before changing the subject. " _Voyager's_ mission was to find this Maquis vessel, then?"

"Yes." He saw no need to discuss the other details he had learned about the mission with T'Pel. She would never admit to worrying, but he was sure she would do the equivalent if she knew why Captain Janeway had been so determined upon locating this particular ship.

Much of the remainder of the trip was spent in silence. In passing, Sisko wondered what he would do if they did happen to fall into that Mirror Universe again. What had happened to that dark-skinned Vulcan he had seen that time, the one who looked like Tuvok? With all that had been happening on that Terok Nor, was he even still alive?

When Sisko announced that they had reached the coordinates where a runabout from Deep Space Nine had once tumbled through a break in the space-time continuum to arrive unexpectedly in the Mirror Universe, T'Pel took to her feet and walked over to the viewport. She pressed her hands against the transparent aluminum surface as if to touch the very fabric of space into which her husband might have fallen.

The  _Vltava_ had passed beyond Bajor. Sisko brought the craft about to face the planet, which at this angle from its sun was in a three-quarters full phase. Deep Space Nine had been left far behind them, rendered invisible by distance. From their current vantage point, Bajor was marginally larger than the moon that Sisko remembered rising in the sultry skies of New Orleans when he was a boy. The scars of war, politics, disease, and petty strife could not be detected from here - only the sparkling bluish green globe swirling with white wisps of clouds, hanging suspended against the field of stars which, after five years, had become his stars. Sisko had always loved this view of Bajor. It reminded him of home.

After several minutes during which not a word passed between the passengers on the  _Vltava_ , T'Pel broke the silence. "Captain, are we in the Badlands of which you spoke, where the Maquis vessel had supposedly disappeared?" She turned to address him directly. "I had thought somehow that we would be much closer to Cardassian space - or perhaps my awareness of the distance we have traveled suffers from my lack of experience in such matters."

"No, you are correct, Doctor. That is Bajor before us; we are a day's journey at Warp 8 from the Badlands. In good conscience, I could not take you that far, to such a dangerous area of space - for political reasons, as much as for the physical dangers from the spatial turbulence itself. In terms of interstellar distances, it is not at all far from here, however. If the fissure in space-time, or whatever one might wish to call it, is present here, it is not so difficult to believe that one also could exist such a relatively short distance away, especially in a region plagued by violent plasma storms."

Before continuing, Sisko paused. He wished to use great care in putting into words what he wanted to convey to her next. It did not do to tell falsehoods to Vulcans, but it did not seem prudent to reveal everything to her. "Even bringing you here might not be particularly wise of me with the Cardassian and Dominion situation so unsettled, but you seemed to be making a sort of pilgrimage to your husband's last known location. This is as close as I can come at the moment to the anticipated flight path of vessels bound towards the Badlands from Deep Space Nine. You must understand that we are not even certain Captain Janeway and her crew ever actually entered the Badlands. She was some distance from the area when she last reported to Starfleet Headquarters."

"You think it is possible, then, that the crew of  _Voyager_ is alive in the Mirror Universe?"

His earlier grim thoughts resurfaced. Standing up to pace the limited open area of the runabout, strong brown hands clasped firmly behind his back, Sisko stated honestly, "It is certainly possible that they arrived in the Mirror Universe. What their situations might be now, three years later, would be difficult to say. Considering the conditions that were present during my last contact, who knows?"

He thought about telling her then but hesitated; before he could continue, her voice filled the gap in his speech as her dark eyes sought his again. "Your refusal to patronize me is most appreciated, Captain. But I know Tuvok is alive."

A half smile appeared on his lips. "How is it that you are so certain?"

She turned away then in the Vulcan equivalent of embarrassment. He recognized it well from serving with Vulcans in various postings. "There is a psychic bond between a wife and husband of my race which transcends that of most other beings. It calls to us over vast distances of space. I can sense this bond even now between Tuvok and myself. In about three years, of course, all doubt will be removed, at a particular time . . ." Her voice faltered. Sisko thought she had been astonishingly forthcoming with all that she had already disclosed to him. She did not need to make any further revelations to him.

"Doctor," he said gently. "From my service with Captain Storil on the  _Saratoga_ , I am aware of how the Vulcan mating bond manifests itself. A diversion to Vulcan was once necessary. You do not have to go into any details with me."

T'Pel glanced back at him, a measure of relief detectable that she would be spared the necessity of a long explanation. "Then you understand that distance is no barrier to this bond? I will know that I am truly a widow when the appointed time comes - if there is no answer to my blood's call."

"But between different universes? Are you sure the bond could traverse that great a gulf?"

"If I can still sense the bond now, why not then?" she said simply.

Her confidence was infectious, and Benjamin Sisko grinned at her. "Why not, indeed?"

She moved to the copilot's seat that she had occupied during the trip away from Deep Space Nine and seated herself gracefully. "I believe that I have taken up enough of your time, Captain. I know how busy you must be with defensive measures requiring so much of your attention. My most sincere thanks for having brought me out here, despite all the difficulties that are surely on your mind."

"The problems will still be there when I get back. Getting away can sometimes give one a fresh perspective."

At that moment Sisko did not feel that traveling with a beautiful woman on what he thought of as a sacred journey had been a hardship. By following the path Tuvok had taken and attempting to rescue him, T'Pel had exhibited a devotion to her absent husband that inspired admiration. It was a privilege to have been a part of it.

Even for a Vulcan, T'Pel was subdued during their return flight to the station. Alive or not, the probability of Lieutenant Tuvok's return before the  _pon farr_ could not be great, by anyone's measure. Sisko wondered what the effect on her would be if they could not fulfill their mating bond. Male Vulcans, he knew, had been fatally stricken when they could not reach their mates before all reason had been stolen by the  _pon farr_. He did not know whether or not the female could also die, but from what he knew of the intensity of the time of mating, her husband's absence would undoubtedly be painful for her. He respected her privacy, resolving instead to ask Julian about it as soon as the young doctor returned from Bajor.

Thinking of Julian reminded Sisko of her ostensible reason for visiting Deep Space Nine. "How long will you stay on the station, now? Will you have time to consult with Doctor Bashir regarding your work?"

"If he returns before I must leave, I would very much like to consult with him, Captain. I have booked passage home to Vulcan three days from today. My children already find my behavior most eccentric, as you know. A long absence would be inadvisable."

"They might send the men in white jackets after you?"

"Pardon me, Captain? I do not understand the reference."

He laughed. "A saying of my home world based on long outdated ways of dealing with people who were not considered to be behaving in the usual manner. A very poor joke, Doctor T'Pel. Forgive me."

The tolerant look Captain Storil assumed whenever Sisko had joked with the senior staff on the  _Saratoga_ appeared upon her countenance. Wolf 359 returned to mind. May the good captain's lost  _katra_ rest in peace, Sisko thought, as a contemplative look replaced the grin on his own face.

As they exited the runabout bay airlock, T'Pel turned to the right, looking out the arm of the crossover bridge toward the pylon she had tried unsuccessfully to visit twice before, and had successfully visited once. "Captain Sisko, I know I am being selfish of your time and attention, but would it be possible for us to go to where  _Voyager_ was last docked?" She inhaled deeply before continuing, "It is as you described on our journey. I am on what you might call a pilgrimage to where my husband's feet last walked, as well as researching what happened to him and to his fellow officers and the crew of  _Voyager_. I request permission to visit Docking Port Six on Pylon One, one last time."

The list of Starfleet regulations he would be breaking scrolled through his mind as he listened to her, but he could not continue the pretense. "I will take you to where your husband last walked on Deep Space Nine, Doctor T'Pel, but you must promise me not to tell anyone what I am about to tell you. It is a deeper secret than the Mirror Universe is."

Her right eyebrow raised quizzically, T'Pel dipped her head in acknowledgment before they moved off together toward the turbolift.

=/\=

Later, Jake admitted to his father that he had begged Chief O'Brien and Dax to notify him when the  _Vltava_ returned to the station. Their meeting on the turbolift was not exactly an accident. After they all exchanged brief, cordial greetings, Sisko agreed to his son's request to come with Doctor T'Pel and himself - as long as Jake promised never to say anything to anyone of their eventual destination. The promise was readily made.

Instead of entering the turbolift that ascended the pylon, Sisko led the small party of three to the turbolift which serviced the Docking Ring. They moved almost 180 degrees around the ring before exiting near a docking port by one of the cargo bays. T'Pel looked around her, obviously confused by their arrival at what was decidedly not a location where the newest and best of Starfleet vessels would be berthed.

A few whispered words to Jake stayed him from following his father any further, but the young man watched as Sisko barely grazed the arm of their Vulcan guest to direct her into the docking port's dingy airlock. It was devoid of any but microscopic life forms and smelled of machinery oils and the variously scented sweats of the many races which had passed through the portal.

The captain bent low, speaking in a low-pitched voice so that Jake could not hear. "You wanted to come to where your husband last walked, Doctor T'Pel. I will deny that I ever told you what I am going to tell you now, and I will never repeat it, so listen carefully. Your husband was not on Deep Space Nine at the time that  _Voyager_ departed upon its last journey. He was on the station seven weeks previously, in the guise of a Vulcan who sympathized with the Maquis cause. He was met here by a former Starfleet officer, a native of a Federation colony in the Demilitarized Zone, who piloted a cargo vessel that was berthed here. Although no one could prove it at that time, this ex-Starfleet officer was suspected of being a Maquis terrorist. Your husband's assignment was to infiltrate the cargo vessel's crew to ascertain if the pilot and his companions were Maquis, and, if so, help bring the renegades to justice."

Before Sisko's speech was half ended, understanding bloomed on T'Pel's face. "Then my husband boarded the cargo ship from this docking bay?"

"Yes." He might as well tell her the rest - or at least, most of the rest. She did not need to know that Tuvok had failed to report to the Captain just before _Voyager's_ disappearance. After all, she was sure her husband was alive, and it was not his place to put her certainty in doubt. " _Voyager's_ missions were to apprehend the Maquis vessel, impound the ship, and retrieve your husband. No sign of either vessel has ever been found: no scrap of debris, no resonance traces from a warp core breach. For both ships to disappear so completely is highly unusual - probably impossible, although Starfleet has officially declared both ships as lost.

"So, if you wish to walk in the steps of your husband, his last known steps in this quadrant had to have been taken here." Sisko stepped away from the portal.

Her dark blue robes fluttering around her, the Vulcan woman slowly ascended the two steps to the open airlock doorway. T'Pel's hands lightly touched the edges of the portal, moving across the bare metal slowly, carefully. When she was fully inside, she folded her hands in front of her reverently as she slowly pivoted around her, intently studying each crevasse and support strut, committing them to her memory. Then T'Pel began to pace from one end of the airlock to the other, hand held out to graze each rounded strut, as if she meant, somehow, to fit her footsteps into the invisible, undetectable ones left by Tuvok and to put her hand where his might have rested.

It was difficult to watch her. The expression on her face was not one that was typical of the Vulcans he had known, yet Sisko could not identify any particular emotion that was present, only intense concentration. It was almost as if T'Pel were trying to telepathically sense the places where her husband might have touched, to communicate with him in some mysterious way.

Perhaps she could. Despite their long association with other races and their position as co-founders of the Federation, Vulcans kept much from outsiders. Sisko was aware of many a xenoanthropologist who had tried but failed to confirm a treasured hypothesis concerning some aspect of Vulcan culture. The citizens of that world preferred to preserve their uniqueness, not have it paraded across the quadrant for any curiosity seeker to examine.

If T'Pel was right about Tuvok - if her husband were alive unimaginably far from here - did that mean that Janeway and Cavit, Stadi and Kim, Chakotay and the half-Klingon engineer were alive, too? Was the Betazoid fugitive still fleeing justice? And the admiral's son with a knack for making the Big Mistake but with so much potential - could he be out there somewhere making good on a second chance?

The Maquis vessel might have been in a better position to survive in the Mirror Universe, yet Sisko found himself hoping that the Starfleet vessel, alone amongst so many enemies, had found a way to live on, too, if that was, indeed, where the ships had gone.

He had not even considered the possibility before, but as he had told T'Pel, it was unheard of for one vessel, let alone two, to vanish so completely. Sisko had accepted Starfleet's verdict that both ships had been lost forever; now, he realized, he did not. Should  _Voyager_ come flying out of a rift in space someday, returning home after years of adventure, Ben Sisko would not be astonished. If - and it was a very big IF - they could survive that Mirror Universe, or wherever else they may have found themselves.

Time stretched on. Captain Sisko became acutely conscious of the fact that his desk by this time must be fairly groaning with the weight of the data padds awaiting his perusal. He briefly considered leaving his guest to her meditations in the docking port and having Jake bring her back to her quarters, but then he put the thought aside. At the moment, Doctor T'Pel appeared to require his presence far more than inanimate data padds which would be there for him whenever he chose to attend to them. Ben Sisko would wait until T'Pel had finished taking her steps towards peacefully accepting whatever fate had decreed for her husband and for herself.

From where his father had directed him to stand near the turbolift door, Jake watched his father patiently waiting for Doctor T'Pel to finish whatever it was she was doing in the docking port airlock. As every minute passed, Jake became more and more convinced that there was a story here. He could just smell it.

Now, if he could only figure out what the heck it was.

 

**_Fini_ **

 

General Disclaimer:  _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager,_  and all of its characters are the property of Paramount, Inc., and Viacom. I'm not getting a dime for it, and never will, since it was not a winner in the first "Strange New Worlds contest" sponsored by Pocket Books. That's why I wrote it. Of course, I like the story, so I'm glad I wrote it, even though it didn't win anything.

 


	2. The Prodigal--Vulcan

**The Prodigal**

A sequel to "Pilgrimage," by jamelia

 

The scent of flowers wafted through the air, providing the calm atmosphere she now found necessary for meditation. Her husband had gathered these plants during his travels as a Starfleet officer. Many first grew on worlds far more humid than this one, and only in this conservatory could they thrive on Vulcan.

 

The garden room soothed her soul even as it protected the delicate specimens from the harsh, dry climate of her home planet. While she believed the moist air contributed to her ability to concentrate, she also was convinced another factor contributed to her success. In the company of these blossoming friends, she could imagine her spouse was only steps away, in the next room, ready to join her in meditation at any moment. But Tuvok was serving with Captain Janeway on _Voyager,_ a ship immeasurably distant from Vulcan now, in the Delta Quadrant. With Tuvok wandering on many previously unknown worlds, encountering a myriad of compelling exotic flora to tempt him, T'Pel could not begin to estimate how many more orchids he might bring back when he finally returned home.

 

When he returned. Always "when he returned." Never "if."

 

Even now, the oh-so-faint touch of their minds reassured her. He still lived. Several times in the past seven years, a series of days had elapsed in which she could not sense that whisper of contact with her husband. Each time it happened, unwelcome thoughts arose. Always, the break turned out to be very brief. Twice it had lasted for longer than a couple of days, but then their mental bond was renewed, despite the vast gulf of space between his current location and hers.

 

Although communication between the Alpha Quadrant and _Voyager_ had at last been reestablished, she had not had been given the opportunity to question him about the causes of those periods of mental absence. Only once during the past seven years had she seen his face transmitted from _Voyager_ , and that had been just a Terran month ago. She had traveled to Starfleet Command's Communication Center with their daughter Asil, their eldest son Sek, and his wife and daughter for visual contact with Tuvok, with the aid of Project Pathfinder's "Project Watson." They had been given a spare three minutes to share more than six years of living apart, barely enough time for everyone present to exchange greetings, let alone actually talk with one another, but that really had not mattered to T'Pel. Just to gaze at him, to see the subtle light of pleasure light his eyes as he looked upon the face of his granddaughter T'Meni for the first time, had been enough. Besides, she could not bring herself to mention a break in their marital bond in front of their children. That was too private a thing to discuss before anyone else, particularly their progeny. Indeed, the one question she had meant to ask, but had not, had been how many more orchids or other flora he would add to their conservatory upon his return, in case she should need to expand it in size to accommodate them all.

 

This subject should be included in her next letter, she concluded. She would also reassure him of her diligence in caring for his precious collection, just as she had cared for their family while he had been away. She trusted his entire collection would survive until his return, when he could give them his particular care and touch once again. He had never been away from home for such a long period of time before.

Or perhaps she should add this to the long list of things she wished to share with him during their next communication through Project Pathfinder. She was mildly bemused she had never thought to ask this question in previous letters sent through the monthly data stream, once regular contact with _Voyager_ had been achieved. Compared to visual contact, the data stream messages were bland and impersonal; but, considering the length of their separation, even that chance to share their thoughts had been welcome.

 

Almost seven Terran years. Longer, really. He had gone on that away mission for Starfleet Intelligence during the period _Voyager_ was not quite ready for its maiden assignment--the maiden assignment which would soon enter its eighth year without a family leave on Vulcan. Captain Benjamin Sisko had entrusted her with the knowledge of this very secret undercover mission when she had visited Deep Space Nine. As he had requested, she had never breathed a word of it to anyone, even her children.

 

It was quite surprising, really, that a Maquis captain would trust a Vulcan to join the movement. Vulcans were not prone to rebelliousness. She had since learned this Chakotay was a very trusting sort. Adaptable. That may be why he also had survived on _Voyager_. In fact, after the loss of Commander Cavit, _Voyager's_ previous first officer, Chakotay had been installed in the position rather than her husband, the second officer, as Starfleet protocol usually demanded. T'Pel could not fault the captain on her decision, though some would view this as a slight against Tuvok. Enlisting Chakotay as her second in command had been necessary to obtain the cooperation of the surviving Maquis crew of the _Val Jean_. And, although much was still kept confidential by Starfleet, she could see Janeway's logic in this matter to be sound. _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ survivors alike had eventually turned into one single crew. A somewhat rambunctious one at times, according the her husband's letters, but cohesive when it counted. She was confident this would prove to be a key factor in their inevitable return home.

 

Eventually.

 

She sighed deeply, involuntarily, even though she was alone in their home and no one could see this minor sign of emotional disquiet. How long might he still be away? Years? Decades? It was so disturbing to her equilibrium that _no one_ could give her an answer to this question. Confirmation that he lived, proof of his survival in the Delta Quadrant, had not made his prolonged absence any easier to bear. Particularly during That Time. The time of mating.

 

The _pon farr_. They had both survived, despite the vast distances between them. During their so-brief contact, she also could not ask him how he had endured it. Although it had been extremely trying for her, the Vulcan female almost always lived through it. The one who bore children, who still mothered the young to a greater degree than a father, had been endowed by heredity with the strength to survive the time of mating despite physical separation from her bond mate. The male was the more vulnerable partner, with a high mortality rate when unable to join with the spouse. It had been a comfort to realize he had managed. But how many more _pon farrs_ would they need to experience apart from each other, when, at their ages, each succeeding one was filled with stronger urges than the last?

 

T'Pel decided this was not an issue upon which she would wish to dwell during this period of deep meditation. She must find another subject, one less prone to test her emotional control. A review of her friendship with Captain Benjamin Sisko would serve instead. Their association had been primarily a long-distance one, of course, thanks to constant interference from the Cardassians and their penchant for warfare with the Federation. And that was even before the greater challenges presented by the Cardassian's alliance with the Dominion of the Gamma Quadrant.

 

Warfare was the dark consequence but bitter ally of civilization, she was convinced. The evil done in warfare seems universal, no matter where or when it takes place: here, or in the Mirror Universe.

 

And it was, of course, so very inconvenient when one is hunting for a husband who has inexplicably disappeared, along with all of his crew mates.

 

Her first meeting with Captain Sisko provided comfort to her, because she thought she had solved the riddle of her husband's disappearance. This belief was not shaken after Sisko let her know Tuvok had not left Deep Space Nine on _Voyager_ , but on the Maquis ship _Val Jean_. She was well aware of one explanation for the disappearance of both ships.

 

Tuvok had never been able to keep the existence of the Mirror Universe from her, although Starfleet had declared it "top secret." When a Vulcan couple shares mind melds during the _pon farr,_ knowledge of such secrets often cannot be prevented. Captain Hikaru Sulu had confided the existence of the Mirror Universe to the crew of _Excelsior_ once, when it seemed their ship might have entered a breach in space which led there. As it turned out, it had not. It was another sort of subspace anomaly, from which the ship had finally escaped unscathed. After that occurred, however, Tuvok had resigned his commission, returning to Starfleet only after his sense of duty to the values it represented called him back into service, many years later.

 

Since _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ had disappeared in that same vicinity, near the Bajoran Wormhole, she reasoned the ships must have also slipped into that Mirror Universe. How else to explain that the call of her blood to his and his to hers had not been extinguished, as it would have been if Tuvok truly was lost to her through death?

 

Captain Sisko had been very gracious during her first visit to Deep Space Nine, answering her questions with as much honesty as he could, given the restraints of secrecy imposed by Starfleet regarding the Mirror Universe. He described a Vulcan he had seen during one of his inadvertent forays into that realm. This Vulcan looked just the same as her Tuvok, although Sisko could not verify this truly _was_ Her Tuvok. He could just as easily be a man native to that dimension, with a dangerously warped character, as so many doubles of people he knew turned out to be--including the Benjamin Sisko of that place. Then, she had truly hoped this man _was_ Her Tuvok, because that would mean _Val Jean_ , at least, had fallen into that realm, and perhaps all on board the ship were alive and relatively safe. The alternative--that Tuvok was dead, along with all of those lost with him, was something too terrible for her to contemplate.

 

Even without any assurance it was her Tuvok, T'Pel left Deep Space Nine with a renewed sense of confidence that he was still alive. She would endure their separation, no matter how long it might last. While she would not classify this as optimism, since she could never openly express she "felt hope," Captain Sisko had certainly perceived it as such. When she was honest with herself, she knew he recognized what Vulcans tried to hide so completely and usually could--except from people with the experience and perceptiveness to penetrate the veil of--perhaps she should call it denial--others did not see. He had served with Vulcans before.

 

It had not mattered to her then, and in truth did not matter now, even though her husband was so much farther away from her than he would have been if _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ _HAD_ fallen into the Mirror Universe seven years ago. After she left Deep Space Nine, more than a year passed before she learned the truth: both ships had been dragged approximately 70,000 light years away to the other side of the galaxy, deep into the Delta Quadrant, through the agency of an alien "Caretaker." She disliked the fact that a precise distance had never been shared with her. Starfleet Command declined to respond to her request for that information, citing "need to know" restrictions. It hardly seemed to be a significant secret to keep, certainly not in the same league as the Mirror Universe; but she would have to be content with what they had been willing to tell her. Indeed, by the time she learned Tuvok was definitely alive, _Voyager's_ position, after more than three years of travel, was far closer to the Alpha Quadrant. Still, their separation could continue for decades. She had discussed this with Captain Sisko on her second visit to the station, when warfare again raged in the region of Deep Space Nine. That visit, however, had been driven by duty, not curiosity.

 

=/\=

 

"Doctor T'Pel. We are honored you chose to visit our station again during such difficult times."

 

T'Pel was not deceived. Constable Odo was anything but pleased to see her again. She herself was troubled by the subterfuge upon which Starfleet had insisted when they ordered her to personally deliver her invention. Given the need to hide her true purpose from the adversaries of the Federation, however, she accepted the ruse of a visit to "an old friend." In truth, by this time, she _did_ consider Captain Benjamin Sisko, the Bajoran Emissary, an old friend. She had maintained contact with him over subspace since her previous visit. She valued their association. There was something reminiscent of Tuvok in his measured manner of speaking, in the warm, rich timbre of his voice, and in the deep sepia tones of his complexion.

 

She did not go into that with the constable, of course. She only said, "I am honored to be allowed a visit during this difficult time, Constable. Will we have an opportunity to visit with Captain Sisko soon?"

 

"You will. He has requested I bring you and your companions to meet with him in Ops as soon as you arrive, if you wish."

 

T'Pel could not completely hide her bemusement at his gentle reference to her companions. "Constable, forgive me. I should have introduced them to you immediately upon our disembarkation from our transport vessel. This very kind young Starfleet officer is Lieutenant Commander Jason Reed, who offered his protection on our journey. You may recall the project on which I was working during the time of my earlier visit. Commander Reed is one of my professional colleagues on that project. And our companion is my daughter Asil."

 

Asil offered Odo a Vulcan salute, although she was unable to maintain the gravity such a greeting usually required. Her eyes shone too brightly, and her cheeks flushed to a deep coppery tone. Even her mother's preemptive reminders to make a great effort at emotional control had been insufficient to extinguish Asil's excitement over the privilege of accompanying her mother to Deep Space Nine. Perhaps Constable Odo would fail to read the signs, although T'Pel doubted he would. He had proved to be quite a perceptive being, as she had learned during her earlier visit to the station. He responded to Asil's "Live long and prosper" with a brief nod of the head before turning to Reed and shaking his hand. With a wave of his other hand, Odo turned away from T'Pel and Asil, saying from over his shoulder, "Please, follow me."

 

As they walked up the Promenade, Constable Odo chatted with the human Starfleet officer in the human manner of "small talk." He said little to T'Pel and Asil, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. Asil was so busy observing all she could of Deep Space Nine, she would have been too distracted to respond promptly, as she normally should do as a guest of the station.

 

T'Pel found herself avidly taking in her surroundings as well. Although an effort had clearly been made to banish any signs of the recent Cardassian occupation and the subsequent struggle to retake the station for the Federation, faint scars from weapons fire remained, particularly in odd corners of the ceiling. Only a thorough refurbishment would reach those areas to completely remove such blemishes. Now was hardly the time for that.

 

She also noted the Promenade seemed less populated than she remembered from her earlier visit. The sounds of the group's footsteps resonated more loudly than they would have if many others were strolling beside them down this main thoroughfare. Other pedestrians were few and far between. She suspected many of the shops which had closed up when their proprietors had fled, expecting imminent invasion by the Cardassians, might never reopen. She also could not discount the fact the station had only recently been retaken by the Federation and Bajoran forces. That might be contributing to its relative emptiness.

 

Quark's Bar was the exception. Most of those braving a trip to the station were partaking of the Ferengi barkeep's libations and numerous entertainments. The sounds of their merrymaking spilled out onto the Promenade. T'Pel had long observed that during times such as these, restorative spirits and those which brought oblivion to the senses for a short period were prized by combatants, as well as those who served them in a supportive capacity.

 

Upon arriving at Ops, the captain's second in command greeted them warmly. T'Pel was pleased to see Major Kira Nerys, but the ongoing war with the Dominion was taking a toll on the Bajoran. Her smile was as welcoming as always, but her eyes betrayed a degree of fatigue T'Pel had never seen in them before. Perhaps it was merely a lack of sleep, but worry was the more likely explanation. T'Pel wondered if Captain Sisko would be similarly affected by all that was happening on the station, but she did not need to wait long for her question to be answered. The station commander turned towards them at the sound of Major Kira's greeting.

 

"Doctor T'Pel, how good it is to see you again," Sisko intoned as he walked up to them with his hand raised in a Vulcan salute. "And Lieutenant Commander Reed, finally, we meet face-to-face. You must introduce me to your lovely young companion, Doctor. I was not advised you were coming with anyone other than Mr. Reed."

 

"My youngest, Captain. My daughter Asil."

 

"Ah. Now I see the resemblance. Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Asil. I'm certain my son Jake will be quite eager to visit with you while you're here on the station. If you like, I can call him now to see if he's free to take you sightseeing."

 

A pause of several seconds ensued while Sisko waited for an answer to his query. Assuming the captain was reluctant to say anything more about their primary mission in front of her daughter, T'Pel enlightened him. "That can surely wait until later, Captain. I look forward to visiting with Jake myself. It is best Asil remain with us for now. She is well versed in all of my reasons for visiting the station at this time."

 

Noting her very slight emphasis upon the word "all," Sisko raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly to let T'Pel know he understood what she had not specified verbally in this relatively public area of Ops. Exchanging a glance with Reed and catching his slight nod of agreement, Sisko added, "Well, in that case, let us adjourn to one of the conference rooms for a short chat. Odo, please come with us. And Major, I believe your presence to be desirable as well."

 

After Major Kira signaled her backup to take over command of Ops, the group filed into the conference room she indicated. "This is the most secure room on the entire station," Major Kira advised them, once the door was closed and the security monitoring system had been engaged. "Bug sweeps every two minutes. So, what _really_ has brought you to Deep Space Nine? I doubt this is really just a 'visit with an old friend,' considering the difficulties the neighbors are presenting."

 

Sisko smiled slightly. With his elbows resting on the arms of his chair and his fingers steepled in front of his face in the same way Tuvok so often did when he was thinking of something to say, T'Pel had to tamp down a momentary pang of recognition. "My research, Captain. The anti-grav device we discussed during my last visit has been perfected and tested under field conditions. Lieutenant Commander Reed has obtained clearance for it to be made available for your use."

 

The station commander's smile spread into a grin. "You have prototypes with you?"

 

"Better than that, Captain," replied Reed. "We brought along one hundred of the devices, suitable for immediate deployment if you have a heavy-planet objective you need to accomplish. They're very clever little devices, if I say so myself, though as a member of the development team, I guess I probably shouldn't!"

 

"If a development team isn't happy with what they've come up with, no one else will be, either!" Major Kira snorted. "When can we see them?"

 

"Actually, you're looking at two of them right now. Miss Asil is wearing what we've designated the 'Diplomatic Model.' I'm wearing the one we call 'Battle Mode.' "

 

Reed and Asil both stood up, making identical, rather awkward hand gestures near their waists. Loosely fitted lightweight bands appeared around Asil's wrists and neck. Gradually, she floated upwards, until her head touched the ceiling. At the same time, a full set of body armor, complete with visored helmet, encased Reed's body. He slowly drifted upwards to join Asil as she floated above the others' heads.

 

"Remarkable!" Sisko exclaimed. Kira clapped her hands and grinned. Even Odo shook his head in astonishment.

 

"And the operative elements are all out-of-phase with our reality?" Sisko asked.

 

"Yes, Captain. We've managed to miniaturize those elements considerably since my last visit. You see, I was not _only_ indulging my curiosity about a certain subject when I came here last time. I really was conducting research on the best version of our device, to make the anti-grav units as usable and safe for the wearer as possible. Just being in the atmosphere of a station vulnerable to attack at any moment stimulated my imagination, and that influenced my recommendations to the team. Lieutenant Commander Reed was especially appreciative of my suggestion to add additional protective features, including armor and a helmet, to deal with weapons fire. These features become visible only when the anti-grav element is engaged."

 

"She didn't need to do much to convince me it was a good idea. The others on the team signed on to the expanded concept almost immediately, too. It can be a real advantage, particularly when you can't be sure where enemy fire might come from," agreed the lieutenant commander.

 

T'Pel stifled a sigh. "I would prefer the devices only be necessary in 'Diplomatic Mode,' of course. I do realize, however, that there are times when the best defense is a strong offense. We have added many safety features to minimize the chance the controls and connections to the body can be damaged by weapons, even though the out-of-phase elements themselves should be impervious to damage under normal conditions."

 

Major Kira turned to Asil. "How long have you been working with your mother on these designs? From the beginning?"

 

Asil pressed the controls to begin her descent before replying, "Not from the beginning. I began to assist my mother after she returned from Deep Space Nine last year. I had just finished my studies in developing medical technologies for individuals to allow them to dwell safely in challenging environments, which is Mother's field. Moving into this project was a natural progression. Mother recommended me to the team. It has been most gratifying to work with her as professional colleagues. It has been a very productive association. After normal work hours, we often found ourselves engaged in 'brainstorming,' as I believe it is sometimes called, when we were together at home."

 

"There was no 'nepotism' involved in my recommendation, I assure you. I had the advantage of knowing the quality of my daughter's work to be exemplary." T'Pel said. She admonished herself for allowing a measure of pride enter her voice as she spoke of her daughter's qualifications. After all, Asil was the one who had achieved her high level of proficiency herself. T'Pel had had nothing to do with it.

 

As he deactivated his armor and floated down to the floor, Reed chimed in, "Asil's ability was obvious as soon as she started working with us. If I have my way, I'll add her to any task group I'm assigned to in the future."

 

T'Pel raised her eyebrow at the vehemence with which the young officer expressed this opinion. She was rather sure her daughter's appearance and pleasant personality were as attractive to the young Starfleet officer as Asil's knowledge of medical technology. She would have to consider carefully whether to continue working on teams with Lieutenant Commander Reed in the future, if his attentions to her daughter were other than strictly professional.

 

"Now that we've established our young colleague's professional credentials, may I ask when we will actually obtain the devices you've brought to us?" Sisko commented, as if he himself had detected something other than professional interest in Asil from Mr. Reed.

 

"I'll supervise the unloading now," Reed hurriedly replied. "It's amazing how small the shipping box is. There's an out-of-phase shipping mode feature available. We can pack a lot of them into a very small crate."

  
"I will assist Lieutenant Commander Reed in moving the devices into secure storage," Odo said. After the two had left, Major Kira followed the pair out in order to reassume command of Ops, leaving T'Pel and Asil with Captain Sisko.  Only then could a "visit with an old friend" finally take place in earnest.

 

Asil broke the momentary silence. "You've heard the good news about my father and _Voyager_ by now, Captain Sisko?"

 

"I have, Asil. Let me say how very glad I was to hear it. So, Doctor, your conclusion that _Voyager's_ being declared lost with all hands was premature turned out to be correct, even though our supposition about how it came about was a bit off."

 

"Yes, Captain. No slipping into another dimension was necessary to explain their disappearance. Neither of us could imagine that a being of amazing power, if questionable morals, could drag both ships to the other side of the galaxy as he did."

 

"Have you had any communication with the ship since _Voyager's_ EMH showed up on the _Prometheus_? Starfleet has not shared any further information about the subject since the initial announcement of the ship's survival and location in the Delta Quadrant."

 

T'Pel was unable to completely stifle her sigh this time. "Starfleet invited the crew's family members and friends to send messages using the communications array network on which the Doctor had traveled to _Prometheus_. I sent a letter to my husband, advising him of our family's continued health and well-being. I also advised him he was now a revered grandfather to our son Sek's first child, T'Meni. I cannot say for sure he ever received my letter. I was advised the communication array inexplicably collapsed right after our messages were sent to _Voyager_ from Starfleet Command."

 

"I'm sorry to hear that. I will have faith he _did_ receive your letter, and that regular communication will be reestablished soon. I understand Admiral Owen Paris, whose son is serving on _Voyager_ with your husband, has been placed in charge of a research project to that end. Chief O'Brien told me a shipmate of his from his days on _Enterprise_ has been enlisted to work with Admiral Paris. Perhaps that will be your next assignment, Asil?"

 

Asil's sigh was obvious. "I would certainly work on it if asked, but I am unlikely to be recruited by the admiral for that project. My expertise is not in the communications field."

 

"Communications _is_ a specialty of my son Jake, although not in the disciplines in which this Lieutenant Barclay apparently excels. Jake is a very talented writer. You must join us for dinner this evening. He will be eager to pick your brains for a story or two. You know, he was sure yours was an intriguing story when you last visited, Doctor, but he was frustrated because he never could figure out just what it might be. I could not enlighten him, of course, since he couldn't write about the Mirror Universe even if I had told him of our speculations. Perhaps this time you will humor him and can share something he _can_ write about?"

 

Asil answered, "I don't know what we can tell him, since this project is also highly classified."

 

"And we certainly cannot share any stories about 'other dimensions,' since that's not where my husband went."

 

"Perhaps we can explain the reason you first came to Deep Space Nine was to walk in the footsteps where your husband last walked, before his disappearance? That now you've come back because it is as close as you can come to his current location? _Voyager's_ survival in the Delta Quadrant is _not_ a classified subject, after all."

 

"If you think that will satisfy Jake, I believe we can share a heavily edited version of my last trip, as well as this one."

 

"Let's go find him. And I'll see if Kasidy will be available for dinner tonight. I'd like you both to meet her."

 

=/\=

 

Kasidy Yates was available. They had enjoyed a very nice seafood dinner, prepared by Sisko and Jake from Ben's father Joseph's recipe. Jake was quite attentive to Asil, which she accepted with the detached grace befitting a Vulcan maiden, especially one under the watchful eye of her mother. That air of detachment, T'Pel was quite certain, contributed to Jake's attraction to her. He followed Asil around "like a puppy," according to Chief O'Brien, for the remainder of their visit. Jake later published a nicely written feature article on the visit of a Vulcan mother and daughter to the place closest to where the absent husband and father, who now was journeying home on _Voyager,_ had last walked in the Alpha Quadrant, just as Ben Sisko had suggested.

 

Despite the dangers surrounding the station during that period of time, mother and daughter shared very pleasant memories of this all too brief interlude. T'Pel and Asil were whisked back to Vulcan by Starfleet after a stay of only four days. T'Pel had subsequently spoken with Sisko a few more times over subspace, but then he was gone. The Bajoran Emissary's true mission had at last been revealed. His actions ended the conflict, but at the cost of his finite human life as Captain Benjamin Sisko, Starfleet officer, husband, and father. The son of one of the Bajoran Prophets, he was now a prophet himself, dwelling in the timeless Celestial Temple of the Bajorans. Kasidy had seen him once. He had promised her he would return someday, but the timeless wormhole alien being he now was could not say when that might be.

 

Were Jake Sisko and Kasidy's infant, born after Ben had entered the Celestial Temple, fated to become Wormhole Aliens themselves someday? Had Ben's inheritance from his mother Sarah passed into another generation? T'Pel could only wonder if that question would be answered within her own life's timeline.

 

As T'Pel ended her period of meditation, she decided she should contact Kasidy to ask how she and her family were doing, now that Ben was no longer with them. It was the least she could do. T'Pel could not say when her husband would return to her, either. The Vulcan matriarch and Kassidy Yates-Sisko had that in common.

 

Slowly, T'Pel arose and walked slowly out of the conservatory towards her communication terminal, located in one corner of the main living area. She could see the "message waiting" light blinking. Five red lights, for five messages. She hadn't been meditating for _that_ long, but wasn't that always the way of it? Five days could pass when no one would see fit to contact her. And on another day, five messages could arrive simultaneously, all of them, naturally, marked "Urgent."

 

While four of the messages originated with her children, the first urgent communique was from Starfleet Command. Logically, her children must also have received word from Starfleet and were reacting to it. T'Pel drew her breath and made a great effort to clear her mind of any taint of emotionalism, no matter what that first message happened to contain, as she opened it.

 

**Stardate: 54987.2**

**To: Dr. T'Pel of Vulcan, spouse of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok**

**From: Admiral Owen Paris, Project Pathfinder, Starfleet Command**

**Re: Voyager's Safe Return to the Alpha Quadrant**

**With great joy, Starfleet announces the return of the USS Voyager to Sector 001. Captain Janeway and her crew, including your husband, have returned safely, if unexpectedly, from the Delta Quadrant. Debriefing of Voyager's personnel by Starfleet Command staff has already commenced. As soon as your husband's debriefing has been completed, he will be allowed to contact you via subspace. We expect this will take place within the next 2 days by Earth reckoning. Welcome home celebrations are pending. We will alert you of any factors which might affect your reunion with your husband.**

She was aware of a sudden weakness melting all the joints of her body as she leaned forward upon her desk to maintain an upright position. If she had not already been seated before her communications terminal, T'Pel knew she would have collapsed to the floor before she had read that message to the end. Any and all efforts to control her emotions would have been fruitless. 

 

He was home. He was safe. She must go to him via the first transport available, whether Starfleet Command was ready to receive her or not. The messages from her children must be asking her when she was leaving Vulcan for Terra. Surely they all knew she would not wish to delay her journey to welcome home their father in her own way.

 

As T'Pel closed the Starfleet message and moved to open the next one, which had come from Sek, the "new message" light blinked again. Red again, for another urgent message, rather than a normal, potentially boring message marked by an amber light. This one had been sent from Starfleet Medical.

 

Her emotions slipped out visibly once again, enough so she was relieved Asil had spent the day away at a former schoolmate's home and would not see her mother's loss of control. Instinctively, T'Pel knew this second message was not likely to be another congratulatory missive. Something must be very wrong for Starfleet Medical to contact her, so close on the heels of the initial message. What had happened to her husband?

 

**Stardate: 54987.5**

**To: Dr. T'Pel of Vulcan, spouse of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok**

**From: Admiral James Kempton, Chief of Staff, Starfleet Medical**

**Re: Request by EMH of USS Voyager**

**The Chief Medical Officer of Voyager, the EMH, has requested your presence at an important meeting concerning your husband. Please advise of your anticipated arrival date. You may reply directly to the EMH, who continues to be stationed on Voyager.**

 

T'Pel immediately began to compose a confidential message to _Voyager's_ EMH, requesting more specific information from him about her husband's condition--if he could share it in a message. She assured him she would be coming to Terra as soon as transportation there could be arranged.

 

Once that response was on its way, she returned to her message from Sek. Before she could read more than a couple of his words, however, she heard the light, rapid steps of her daughter running heedlessly up the path to their front entrance.

 

The steps slowed for a few seconds, as she apparently tried to control her emotions. Unfortunately, Asil's running steps, her breathlessness, and her first words as she burst through the door  undermined the noble attempt: "Mother! You never answered my message! _Voyager_ is _home_! Father is _home_! They came home today! Did you know they were coming today?"

 

T'Pel slowly rose to her feet, glancing obliquely at Asil to show her lack of appreciation for her daughter's emotional entrance. "Since I was meditating for the past hour, I have only just read the message from Admiral Paris informing me of their arrival. His message stated the arrival was 'unexpected,' so I believe even Starfleet Command had no reason to think their return was so imminent. I was planning to book immediate passage to Terra for myself and for any of the family who wish to accompany me to Sector 001. Will you travel with me?"

 

"Of course, Mother! All of us will, -- Sek's wife Varin and T'Meni, too. Although with Varith and Elieth on assignment off Vulcan . . ."

 

"Yes, they will undoubtedly need to travel there separately. Please allow me to finish reading Sek's message to me, as I was trying to do when you arrived home. I trust his emotions will be under much better control than yours are at this moment."

 

Asil swirled into the hallway to her own chamber, showing no sign at all she might be embarrassed by her behavior. Alone once again, T'Pel permitted herself a small sigh. Her daughter may have graduated with highest honors from school; she may have performed admirably in her first employment assignments; but Asil was still very, very young. A mother must make allowances.

 

Indeed, she stopped for a moment to consider that a Vulcan mother might choose to bask in the naked joy a young daughter could exhibit during such a momentous and precious event as this; even if the mother herself is expected to remain the serene, unflustered matriarch of a growing family; even when that matriarch's own emotions threatened to boil over in an unsightly display. Perhaps especially then.

 

Whatever _Voyager's_ EMH might soon share with T'Pel about her husband's state of health, she was eternally grateful for one thing: to her great, if carefully hidden joy, now they would be able to face whatever had happened to him together.

 

=/\=


	3. The Prodigal--Earth

They had every expectation of greeting their long-lost husband and father as soon as they arrived on Terra, but just before their disembarkation, Captain Kathryn Janeway notified them there had been a change in plans. Instead, they were to meet with the captain and _Voyager's_ EMH at Starfleet Medical prior to seeing Tuvok. Although T'Pel and Asil were both unsettled by this request, they did their best not to show it. The EMH had not, in fact, been forthcoming about the commander's condition. This was also extremely disquieting.

 

"T'Pel! So good to see you again!" Captain Janeway's welcome was somewhat restrained, not at all in the way she had greeted T'Pel on previous occasions. Another bad sign, T'Pel's thought, although she continued to remain in the dark about exactly what was wrong with her husband. "Please, come with us to a conference room. It's just down this hall."

 

As they walked to the indicated room, the captain quickly introduced them to "The Doctor," as he was apparently called by everyone on _Voyager_ , and to Admiral Kempton, the current Chief of Staff of Starfleet Medical. This was not T'Pel's first visit to the center, but it was undoubtedly the most uncomfortable. It is quite a different thing to meet with staff about one's own husband, when compared to consultations about medical devices she was developing to assist the faceless crews inhabiting a multitude of starships.

 

As they all took their seats in the tasteful but impersonally decorated, almost clinical room, T'Pel decided the next move was up to her. "Further preliminaries are unnecessary, Captain. Precisely why have I been prevented from seeing my husband? His subspace message to me was extremely brief, considering the length of our separation from each other. What are you keeping from us? What is wrong with Tuvok?"

 

Asil stared at her mother. T'Pel voice held none of the measured, gentle tones she customarily used. To Asil, her mother's voice sounded as strong and unyielding as tritanium plate, more like one of the great Vulcan matriarchs of history, such as T'Pau, who a century before had had the power and the will to refuse a seat on the Federation Council when asked by that body to serve, yet still had been revered by all, even the "Outworlders."

 

The Doctor expelled a deep breath (or a reasonably programmed facsimile) as he said, "We apologize for the delay, Madame. We felt it wise to prepare you about his medical status before you met with him. He has suffered from a neurological condition for most of the past year. I have been treating him with the medications he has directed me to use, but lately, we've seen a greater degree of deterioration. He has been suffering from periods of inattention which are becoming much more frequent. It's so unlike him, you understand. He lost a _kal-toh_ match to a novice player just a couple of weeks ago because he says he was 'distracted.' Tuvok insists he has not been afflicted with early-onset Bendii Syndrome, although his symptoms are consistent with this diagnosis. He claims he has another condition, which he has identified as _fal-tor-voh_."

 

T'Pel took a long moment to consider the Doctor's information before responding, "Tuvok is far too young for Bendii Syndrome. That condition has never been known to manifest before the age of 150, and even at that stage of life, it is extremely rare. Tuvok is barely 100 years old. On the other hand, _fal-tor-voh_ is usually associated with neurological trauma. While physical brain damage can sometimes produce the condition, it is far more commonly diagnosed in Vulcan therapists who have treated many patients with mind melds, especially if the patients are themselves extremely damaged and the mind melds do not go well. It is unlikely a Tactical Officer would experience that sort of mental trauma. How many mind melds was he forced to perform during your journey home, Captain? Were there so many?"

 

The Doctor and Janeway exchanged a few seconds of intense eye contact before the captain answered, "You must understand, T'Pel, we lost so many of our crew when _Voyager_ was dragged into the Delta Quadrant, including our entire biological medical team. Every member of my crew had to assume duties which they never would have needed to perform in the Alpha Quadrant, except during very brief periods of emergency, before help arrived from Starfleet. For seven years, with only the rarest of exceptions, we were totally on our own. Cross-training became very much the order of the day. Every day. I'm sure a Vulcan Tactical Officer here would never have performed as many mind melds as Tuvok was forced to during our journey home, but he was the only Vulcan on board who had the knowledge to provide one when one was necessary."

 

"Hundreds of melds, you mean?" T'Pel could not totally exclude her shock at the implications.

 

"Oh, no, no. Of course not," the Doctor hastened to say. "There were some which were difficult, however. It cannot have been easy for him to walk through Lieutenant Paris' mind when he was convicted of murder by the Baneans. . . "

 

"Enough with the editorializing, Doctor! Just the facts, please!" ordered Janeway, glaring at her EMH in a way which was not unknown to T'Pel from her previous contact with the captain.

 

"Oh, well. To be sure. There was that time he mind melded with Lieutenant Torres to defend her from a purge of her 'violent thoughts,' not to mention the neurochemical imbalance he suffered when he mind melded with Mr. Suder, the confessed murderer. On that occasion he lost self-control and became quite violent for a while. And of course, you mind melded with him, Captain, when he had those flashbacks from the memory virus he caught from Valtane on the _Excelsior_. Becoming Tuvix was also very stressful. And then there was the time he was assimilated by the Borg. . ."

 

"What!" T'Pel could not prevent herself from halting the Doctor's overwhelming recitation. "What are you talking about? Memory viruses? Assimilation by the Borg?"

 

"Only for a few days. After two weeks of my treatments and removal of the implants, he made a full recovery. . ."

 

"Or maybe he did not," Admiral Kempton interrupted, visibly agitated. "Setting aside for the moment all of those other incidents, assimilation by the Borg must have been extremely damaging to Commander Tuvok's brain. Didn't you say he was experiencing these symptoms over the past year? When did this Borg assimilation take place, Captain?"

 

"Just about a year ago," Janeway admitted. "We never thought about that, did we, Doctor? And after the Tuvix incident. . ."

 

"What is Tuvix?" Asil asked hesitantly.

 

"Ah, well, you see, there was this orchid your father was carrying up to _Voyager_. One of our other crew members, a Talaxian from the Delta Quadrant, transported up with your father, and they, well, the two of them were merged into one person by the transporter. Tuvok and Neelix turned into Tuvix." The Doctor looked back and forth to mother and daughter. Both were clearly perplexed. "The orchid did it. It induced symbiogenesis. Quite a remarkable plant, really."

 

T'Pel, unable to stifle her groan, murmured grimly, "Please confirm that my husband has not added this symbiogenic orchid to his collection, Doctor."  

 

"Oh, no, no. Of course not. After our experimentation period was over--after we found a way to separate Tuvok and Neelix back into themselves, you see--we sent the plant back to its planet. On its own. Didn't want another accident happening with any of our other crew, naturally."

 

"Thank you for that wonderfully clear explanation, Doctor." The irony in Janeway's phrasing and tone of voice was impossible to miss. Even the EMH bore an abashed expression in response.

 

"What happened to this Tuvix?" Asil asked.

 

Janeway sighed. "He died when your father and Neelix were . . . reborn."

 

"His death still troubles you, Captain?"

 

"Yes, Asil," Janeway agreed. "If we could have found a way to return your father and Neelix to their own bodies while Tuvix could live on, we would have done it. He was as remarkable an individual as your father and Neelix are, but we simply couldn't find a way to do it." Janeway's line of sight drifted up the wall, but T'Pel was under no illusions that the captain could see anything in this room. An invisible ghost's face stared at her instead. "The Doctor would not do it. 'Do no harm.' I had to be the one to end it . . ."

 

At the captain's obvious distress, T'Pel stopped her from continuing what was an obviously painful recitation. "This was clearly a traumatic incident, to be sure, Captain . . ." Suddenly T'Pel realized what this meant. "This experience with Tuvix--it occurred during your second year in the Delta Quadrant?"

 

"Towards the end of the second year, I believe, yes."

 

"I know exactly when it must have happened. And when my husband suffered from assimilation by the Borg, also. You see, I always could sense my continuing mental bond with Tuvok, although it was weakened by extreme distance. But that was why I was sure he still lived, even before you came to the _Prometheus_ , Doctor, when you were able to confirm _Voyager's_ survival. I could always sense our bond, except for short periods which coincide with both of those incidents. And Doctor, you said my husband suffered violent outbursts from mind melding with a murderer? And he was afflicted at another point with some sort of memory virus?"

 

"Yes, indeed. The melds with the murderer occurred during our second year in the Delta Quadrant. He was using the technique to help Mr. Suder learn to control his murderous impulses. The memory virus incident happened during the third year."

 

"Well, I now believe my husband provided you with the correct diagnosis for his condition. Even if he had only suffered from the trauma of Borg assimilation and from that Tuvix incident, it might have been enough to damage his brain's physical structure, let alone his mental discipline. Tuvok is well aware of the symptoms of _fal-tor-voh_. Before my husband  returned to Starfleet, a cousin of mine was treated for this at the Amonak Temple, near our home. Tuvok visited him upon several occasions during Savol's mind meld therapy. Savol's mother provided it, under the guidance of the monks at the temple, as I recall."

 

The Doctor leaned forward eagerly and said, "Tuvok mentioned that when we discussed his diagnosis. He said a close relative could provide the therapy he needed. Will you be able to do it for him, Madame T'Pel?"

 

She leaned back in her chair before answering, "Probably not." Ignoring the murmurs of dismay coming from the Starfleet contingent around the table, T'Pel explained, "You must understand. I have melded minds with my husband on many occasions. We are as close as any couple can be, but I know from Savol's treatment that the most compatible provider is always a blood relative, which I am not. However, I suspect we will be able to provide an appropriate source of help, thanks to the existence of my children. And I believe the most likely therapist is sitting right next to me here as we speak."

 

"Me? Mother, really? Do you think I would be capable of helping Father?"

 

"Asil, when you were barely out of toddlerhood, you could read your father's mind almost as well as I--certainly better than any of your brothers have ever demonstrated. The bond of a father and a daughter has always been a special one on Vulcan, just as a mother's bond with her sons is always remarkably strong. Is it also so for humans, Captain?"

 

Janeway's smile was a little crooked, and more than a little sad. "You could not disprove your theory using my father and me as examples, T'Pel. I only wish he were still living so that he could show you just how dear we were--and still are, on my part--to each other. I can't tell you much about sons and mothers, though. I only have a sister."

 

"Mothers and daughters also have a close bond, do they not, Mother? It's just a little different."

 

Nodding slowly in agreement, T'Pel reached over and gently grasped her daughter's hand. "Yes, Asil, the bond of a parent to any of her children is special. But in this case, I suspect, the father and daughter bond will be most helpful for Tuvok." Turning her attention to Janeway, T'Pel added, "And now, can we see Tuvok? Is he here?"

 

"After his initial examination at Starfleet Medical, he asked to return to his quarters on _Voyager_ until you arrived. He says it is easier to meditate there than anywhere in this complex. Less distractions, he told me," Admiral Kempton replied.

 

"In darkened quarters, I take it?"

 

"As a matter of fact, yes. He prefers to use only his meditation lamp for illumination," Janeway confirmed.

 

"That is another symptom of the _fal-tor-voh_ : the intolerance for bright light. A mind meld will confirm his diagnosis. Let us go to him now, if you can allow us onto your ship, Captain."

 

"Of course, T'Pel." Fervently, Janeway added, "I am so relieved you came so promptly. As he will be, too."

 

"Although he'd never say it in front of us, of course," the Doctor grumped.

 

"Of course not," T'Pel said, not even bothering to hide her amusement with this most unusual of physicians.

 

=/\=

 

She had never before trod the corridors of _Voyager_ , since Tuvok had never served on her in the Alpha Quadrant--until the return. Even so, she could tell the ship was devoid of the bulk of its crew. Only a few individuals passed them as the group walked away from the Transporter room. Not one of the people they met was wearing regulation Starfleet garb. None of their rank insignia was standard Starfleet issue, for one thing; and all wore old-style uniforms in black, with bibs in the blue of Sciences, the gold of Operations, or the red of Command. These were the type in use at the time of _Voyager's_ initial disappearance. T'Pel noted with some chagrin she had not noticed the captain and the Doctor were wearing these same uniforms before arriving on _Voyager_. Now that she thought about it, T'Pel preferred these to the new ones worn by Admiral Kempton and others she had seen while walking down the sidewalks towards the medical facility. The new gray ones were undistinctive. Virtually colorless.

 

As they walked towards the turbolift, T'Pel took the opportunity to correct the captain and EMH's misconceptions about the nature of the therapy her husband would require, if he did, in fact, suffer from the _fal-tor-voh._

 

"You mean he will require more than one mind meld for a cure?" the Doctor inquired.

 

"Many will be necessary, over a period of several of Federation Standard months. Great care must be taken during the melds to follow the threads of memories and repair them when required. That is one reason a close blood relative is the best therapist. Asil received half of her heredity from her father. From her ease in pushing into her father's mind when she was but four years old, I am quite sure her brain and his are 'wired' in much the same way. The monks will provide guidance to her during the melds, to help her distinguish where the structure of their minds may differ, as she repairs the damage. You can see why it is not a simple, short process."

 

"No, I can see that now. Will the two of you be able to begin the treatment before you arrive at this Amorak Temple?"

 

"No, Doctor. I can provide supports to calm him and help him maintain his attention to tasks while we remain here. He will not be able to deny any lapses in concentration to me, as he could when you asked him about it. But I am what you would call a 'stop gap' measure. And Asil, you should not attempt any sort of therapy without the guidance of the monks. They know what they are doing. They will be able to protect your mind during the process."

 

Asil sighed deeply, saying, "I understand, Mother. It will be a very strange experience to meld with my own father, but if I am the logical one to do it, then I will."

 

"I couldn't ask for more," the captain told her, grinning as they arrived at the turbolift. "This is where the Doctor must leave us for his own destination of sickbay."

 

"Doctor, will you permit me to visit your sickbay? You know my mother and I both work in the field of developing medical technologies. I would like to see what sorts of devices and equipment you utilize when you serve your patients."

 

"Of course, Asil. I would be honored. And while you're there, perhaps you can explain why Vulcan medical people are so secretive about simple bodily functions . . ." The Doctor waved her before him into the turbolift for the journey to his domain on _Voyager_.

 

Although she suspected her daughter would be subject to quite a grilling from the EMH concerning Vulcan medical practices and beliefs, T'Pel was pleased at her daughter's perceptiveness. By removing herself from her parents' first meeting, Asil obviously realized the need for it to take place between the spouses alone, in the strictest privacy.

 

"Tuvok's quarters are down this way," the captain said huskily.

 

When they had reached their destination, she pointed to the proper door, saying, "Here it is. I will take my leave now. Please contact me if you need any assistance with . . . with anything at all."

 

"Thank you, Captain. I will send for you if a need arises. I do not expect it will be necessary, but the offer is appreciated, I assure you." T'Pel could only speculate how much the captain knew, or suspected, about what was about to happen. Quite a lot, apparently.

 

Once the captain was out of sight down the corridor, T'Pel activated her husband's door chime.

 

At first there was no answer. The door did not slide open to admit her. After a second activation of the chime, she heard his voice. "Go away. I wish to be alone."

 

A third attempt would be necessary, but this time, as she hit the chime, she called out, "Even from the one from whom you may be apart, but are never parted?"

 

She did not hear a reply, but the door opened immediately.

 

The darkness which filled his quarters was almost tangible, like a swirling, foggy cloak. The meditation lamp was set at so low a level, she could barely see its flame. At first she was uncertain she could avoid stepping on anything which might lay in her path. Fortunately, the floor was clear of all obstructions. As she peered through the gloom of his austere rooms, she finally could see him pushing himself clumsily to his feet. He must have been kneeling for so long in meditation, his joints loudly protested his request to obey him.

 

But his voice was a warm caress as, oh-so-softly, he uttered her name.

 

"Tuvok," she breathed back, her voice almost as insubstantial as his.

 

They moved towards one another until they were barely a hair's breadth apart, with all their attention fastened onto the other's eyes. The darkness of the room was no barrier now, for they could sense the other's presence. Finally, after seven years, they touched, two fingers to two fingers, stroking back to front, front to back. Their arms opened to surround each other in the bliss of close contact. The bond both had continued to feel throughout their long separation flashed and was renewed, in the length of time a synapse could fire. No need to say any ritual words of "my mind to your mind." It happened instantaneously, as soon as they shared the touch of his skin to hers. No words were wasted in speech. Thoughts flooded from one to the other. No _pon farr_ was necessary to force them into the closest of embraces. The only logical action they could take was to sink to the floor, maintaining their hold upon each other, as close as two individual bodies would allow.

 

They were whole, complete once again, for the first time in more than seven years.

 

=/\=

 

"Did you truly berate Mr. Paris because he miscalculated the exact length of my ears? When he had never met me in person in his life, and had only hologram cubes to guide him?"

 

A rather guttural sound emerged from her husband.  She could not tell if he was grudgingly answering her in the affirmative or not. From his memories, she knew that was exactly what he had done, as well as the young lieutenant's very sensitive response, but she found she could not let such a subject rest. "In other ways, was his facsimile of me satisfactory?"

 

"It was adequate."

 

"And it saved your life, did it not?"

 

"I utilized all of my training in advanced meditation techniques throughout the entire time of mating."

 

"But not very successfully, until you were able to utilize the hologram facsimile he created upon which you could focus your memories of me."

 

He made no reply, but she did not need one. This time, she knew his silence meant affirmation. Raising herself on one elbow, she looked upon his face. Their dim surroundings no longer were a concern now that her vision had adjusted to the lack of illumination. "And would you have truly chosen death during the _pon farr_ rather than join with the young woman named Noss, when you were marooned on that planet in the gravity well?"

 

He was silent for a moment, and she thought, at first, he might attest to its truthfulness. "Honesty compels me to admit I do not know. Since the gravity pocket was about to collapse on itself when _Voyager_ managed to rescue us, I doubt we would have survived long enough for me to find out. She did form an attachment to me during the time of our exile, but when we parted, I . . . I explained my devotion to you to her. In the end she understood why I could not return what she felt for me. It was a difficult time. We thought we were lost for months, but Mr. Paris, the Doctor and I were gone for a mere two days."

 

Choosing to ignore his prevarication, for she now knew he had performed a mind meld with Noss to "explain," T'Pel said only, "I remember when that exile took place. I was concerned when I again could not detect your presence for those two days. This was long after our bond was broken for almost two weeks, which I now know was the time you were merged with Neelix as Tuvix. And later on, you were missing from my mind for a week. That must have been when the Borg assimilated you."

 

"I cannot say I was ever aware of any separations from you. I must attribute that to the fact I was not consciously myself during those times."

 

"I am grateful none proved to be permanent, Tuvok, as I am that the young woman Noss was saved with you, and that she finally understood you could never be to her what I am."

 

"You are not dissatisfied with how I survived, then?"

 

"Tuvok, it is not logical for me to be dissatisfied with any of the agents of your survival. Captain Janeway's tenacity in getting all of your crew home is worthy of the greatest praise. As is, I believe, Lieutenant Paris' creativity and understanding when he helped you through one of the most dangerous times you experienced."

 

"I helped Lieutenant Paris as well. And he and Ensign Kim enjoyed tormenting me. Their antics provided fodder for gossip throughout the ship's complement." The expression on her husband's face was so sour, she could not help but be amused, although she did her best to hide it.

 

"Please, Tuvok. You are well aware of the need of humans to use humor to help themselves face incredible dangers with equanimity. The 'tricks' you say they 'pulled' on you provided a diversion for many of the crew, not just them, did they not?"

 

"For the captain most of all, I have no doubt."

 

"Considering all of the burdens she had to bear, cut off from all the normal supports from the Federation a captain can usually count on, lifting her spirits was a worthy result in itself. Any pleasure the rest of the crew might have experienced because of their 'antics,' as you put it, would constitute what I believe is known as 'the icing on the cake.'"

 

"I cannot argue with your logic."

 

Laying her head on her husband's shoulder and slowly moving her hand down his other arm, T'Pel asked, "How soon will you be allowed to leave for the temple on Vulcan?"

 

"Not for several weeks. The matter of the Maquis must be settled first. I may be asked to testify on their behalf."

 

"Which you will do?"

 

"Absolutely. In the beginning, I was confident a mutiny was imminent. I even created a training program for my junior staff to help them gain the techniques they would need to circumvent it. And then when it finally happened, six years later, _I_ turned out to be the instigator. It is sobering to know I had been brainwashed, with a command hidden in Sek's highjacked letter unlocking the one buried in my mind. I almost destroyed our entire crew. The remaining Maquis would have been insufficient to operate _Voyager_ all the way home, if we had abandoned our Starfleet personnel on that planet in the Delta Quadrant. And who knows how well the planet-bound crew would have fared, cast away, without any realistic chance of returning to their families?"

 

T'Pel sighed. "I think we have just identified another thread in your mind which will require Asil's tender attention to repair."

 

Turning his head, he reluctantly looked into her eyes. "There are other crew members who will require defending, as well. I cannot tell you who they are, although I am sure the touch of our minds identified them to you."

 

"Yes, I know who they are." The faces of the crew members rescued from _Equinox_ flashed across her memory. "And then, of course, you mean to speak up for your trickster nemesis, Lieutenant Paris." This time she made no attempt to disguise her amusement.

 

"Yes, I will most certainly speak up for him. In my review of  the records from his court martial, I believe more allowance should have been made for how seriously he had been injured in the crash, and how the well-known condition of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome may have factored into his inability to acknowledge his culpability in causing the accident. The fact his conscience demanded he confess after his recovery, even though no one suspected he had falsified his initial statement, suggests some leniency could have been extended to him. If it had, I doubt he would ever have ended up in the Maquis."

 

"But if he had _not_ been in the Maquis, he might not have been on board _Voyager_ with Captain Janeway when you were carried away into the Delta Quadrant. He may not have been there to perform the heroic actions which saved all of you on more than one occasion. Perhaps some things are simply meant to be, Tuvok, inexplicable and illogical as that may seem."

 

"I cannot deny there is truth in what you say. Your argument reminds me of Captain Janeway's frequent lament that time travel always gives her a headache--yet Admiral Janeway traveled back in time to bring _Voyager_ home many years before it did in her own time stream. By doing so, she gave me the chance to be healed before my condition becomes irreversible, as had happened to her own Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. Despite my current need to delay returning to Vulcan, do you believe you will be able to stabilize my condition sufficiently until I have fulfilled my duty as a Starfleet officer?"

 

"Of course. Your duty is clear, as is ours. I would expect nothing less of you--or ourselves."

 

Tuvok fell silent, but she knew he was not yet asleep. He would not express anything more to her about the emotions churning within him as a consequence of their reunion. There was no need. She knew of them already, just as he knew of hers.

 

=/\=


	4. The Prodigal--Families

Familiar stars twinkled through the viewports of the mess hall as they entered it the following morning. T'Pel and Tuvok both had spent enough time on Earth during the years Tuvok served as an instructor at Starfleet Academy to treat those stars like old friends. With _Voyager_ in a stable orbit around Earth, and only minimal power required for life support and navigational functions, a skeleton crew was all that was needed to maintain the ship. Less than a dozen crew had to be on duty at any given time, Tuvok had told her. Since the regular Starfleet crew had been allowed to begin their leaves on Earth the previous day, the Maquis crew, under Captain Janeway's supervision, currently constituted the entire duty roster. The Maquis, the _Equinox_ survivors, and Lieutenant Paris must remain until their fates were known. T'Pel thought that was a good thing. Keeping up the familiar routines they had established over the past seven years with people they trusted must be a comfort while the futures of these individuals remained in doubt, just as staying in his familiar quarters helped stabilize Tuvok's mental state.

 

A hearty voice issuing from a being with a very blue face greeted them. "Commander Tuvok! Good to see you back on board!"

 

"Mr. Chell, let me introduce my wife T'Pel and daughter Asil to you," Tuvok stated stiffly in response. From this, T'Pel concluded that this Chell person might have been somewhat trying to her husband in the past.

 

Effusively, the Bolian burbled, "Your wife? Your daughter? Commander, you never hinted at their beauty when you mentioned them to us. Lovely! Which one is your wife? They look like sisters!"

 

T'Pel took this compliment with a grain of salt but readily identified herself as the wife. The smells arising from the steam table in front of Chell were appetizing, at least. She was very hungry after her long night reestablishing her bond with her husband. "Real eggs, from hens raised on Earth, Mr. Tuvok. The freshest omelet you'll ever taste! Farm-harvested fruit! You must taste a little of everything, Commander! Keep up your strength."

 

A selection of fruit, vegetables, and nut bread was finally deemed fine enough for the Vulcan family's consumption. When they reached a vacant table, Asil leaned closer to her parents. "I imagine a steady diet of Mr. Chell's loquaciousness must be very exhausting over time."

 

"Quite," T'Pel agreed.

 

"Mr. Chell as ship's cook makes one more fully appreciate Mr. Neelix's efforts when he filled the position. Neelix could be annoying, and his cooking skills were far inferior to our current chef's, but at least he knew how to speak rationally to me on occasion. Mr. Chell is . . . well, he is Mr. Chell."

 

"Is this the same Neelix who was . . . um, he was half of Tuvix, was he not?" Asil asked hesitantly.

 

Tuvok nodded in wordless affirmation, and T'Pel found herself reluctant to ask whether this Talaxian person was still on board the ship. She could not recall his name on the official list of survivors published in Starfleet's announcement of _Voyager's_ triumphant return. Asil, however, had no such inhibitions.

 

"Did Neelix come all the way to the Alpha Quadrant with you? I'd like to meet him."

 

T'Pel was relieved when she saw her husband's stiff posture relax slightly. "No, he did not come all the way. A few months before our return, we encountered a colony of Talaxians living in a hollowed-out asteroid. He chose to stay with them when we continued our journey to the Alpha Quadrant." Tuvok looked down at his breakfast, but he did not seem to be seeing the food. T'Pel was concerned that he might be showing another symptom of his condition, but then Tuvok went on, "When we first encountered Neelix and the Ocampa woman called Kes, his girlfriend at the time, he was something of what Terrans call a 'con man.' He talked about his many accomplishments a great deal, but most appeared ephemeral at best. As time went on, we found out many were also of a dubious nature. Yet something happened to him during our travels. Neelix became a competent member of our crew, a brave Morale Officer willing to take on Lieutenant Torres when her Klingon nature threatened to overwhelm her, and a good friend to many on board this ship. He could push me to the limits of my emotional control, but, in the end, I deemed him a good friend. The only consolation for our crew when he decided to remain with the Talaxian refugees on the asteroid was that he finally had found something he had lost. His family on Talax had been destroyed in a war. When we left him, he had a chance to rebuild that family, with a widow named Dexa and her son. And, under our captain's tutelage, he had learned leadership skills which were sure to benefit his people. Who can ask for more?"

 

For a few moments none of them could speak. Gently, T'Pel touched the back of Tuvok's left hand. His emotions were strong at that moment, but an image suddenly came to her for which she needed an explanation. "First Contact Day? A dance?"

 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow, but he answered, "We discovered the colony in the midst of our ship's celebration of First Contact Day. Mr. Neelix insisted I say the ritual words of the first Vulcan to meet humans: 'Live Long and Prosper.' He begged me to dance, too, as tradition states occurred during that first meeting, but I could not bring myself to comply. As I implied before, Neelix could be quite pushy towards his 'Mr. Vulcan,' as he liked to call me. But when he chose to leave _Voyager_ , I wanted to honor him in some way; he had grown in stature so much since we'd first met. So, I moved my feet a few times in what humans call a 'soft shoe.' He understood I was dancing for him. If you had seen his face, you would know how much that meant to him. It was the right thing to do. His absence has been noticed by everyone on board, I think, but especially by me. It is something I would never have expected when we first met."

 

"You will never be able to see him again?" Asil asked, a serious note in her voice.

 

"Thanks to Project Pathfinder and Operation Watson, we can still maintain some contact . . ."

 

Tuvok's comment was interrupted by a commotion at the door when several people entered the mess hall. A youthful squeal introduced a very young person of an alien species T'Pel could not immediately identify. The child walked towards them in the rather wide, unsteady gait of a toddler's first steps. A blonde human woman followed closely behind the child. Gentle laughter echoed around the room, but squeals erupted from several of the adults sitting at one of the tables when they saw the couple following the blonde and the toddler. The female, of Klingon descent, was carrying a squirming bundle in front of her. T'Pel heard someone say, "Miral! Finally we get to meet her! Bring her over, B'Elanna!"

 

The tall blonde man guided his petite companion to the table right in front of Tuvok's family. The toddler and her mother took seats at the same table. The man, whom T'Pel identified as the Lieutenant Paris from her husband's memories, looked around. "Is this the Daughter's Corner, Tuvok?"

 

Her husband pulled a face reminiscent of the last time T'Pel saw him bite into a _varanka_ that should have remained on the tree for at least another week to attain sufficient sweetness to be edible. However, Tuvok nodded graciously as the group took their seats. Chell hustled up to the table to take orders for breakfast, since the presence of the children would make normal service of food difficult.

 

As many of the others who were in the mess hall abandoned their own breakfasts to crowd around the "Daughter's Corner," as Mr. Paris had so cheekily dubbed it, T'Pel was struck with a new thought. This crew, particularly those here who were Maquis, who had lost almost everything, constituted a family. Now that family would be torn apart, even as her own was reconstituted with the return of her Tuvok. It was a sobering revelation. Families ended, even as new ones were formed, through birth (as had happened with the Paris family, proudly displaying their daughter publicly for the first time) or adoption (as the toddler clearly was of a different race than the mother who was caring so tenderly for her).

 

The crew of _Voyager_ had adopted each other, supported each other, until the survivors had come home after a journey that should have taken a lifetime, but had not. She understood completely why Tuvok was so adamant about not leaving for Vulcan until every member of this crew truly was safe at home.

 

A prickling up the back of her neck warned her that someone must be looking at her. She turned and perceived Mr. Paris intently studying her ears. He looked away as soon as he realized she had seen him, but she could not let this pass. Leaning closer towards him, she whispered, "Your attention to detail is legendary, Lieutenant Paris, but I trust another holographic representation of my person will prove to be unnecessary in the future."

 

Startled, Tom began to laugh. The Klingon-looking woman with him who must be his wife, Lieutenant Torres, stared quizzically at him. Lieutenant Torres was not the only one looking curious, but the opening created led everyone at the tables to introduce each other. T'Pel allowed herself to be swept up into the _Voyager_ family. From the expression on Asil's face, her daughter also seemed to sense that this was a special time, one to be savored. It would not last long. Soon, what had passed here would be consigned to memory. She trusted it would be a pleasant one, for the futures of those in this mess hall were, with few exceptions, uncertain ones.

 

Thus, T'Pel was not surprised that the pleasant interactions surrounding her centered on the little ones among them. It was much easier to speak of the children when so much else for these individuals was uncertain.

 

Everything stopped after two more people entered the room. One T'Pel knew well, the other, she did not. Surely the gentleman with the striking tattoo who accompanied Captain Janeway was her First Officer, Commander Chakotay. He was smiling broadly as he approached the table where the Paris family sat with Marla Gilmore and her daughter Aimee. After taking the time to make all the proper exclamations complimenting the beautiful babies, Captain Janeway introduced T'Pel and Asil to her first officer.

 

T'Pel said no more than her husband, who, after nodding to acknowledge his superior officers, had continued to eat his breakfast.

 

Chakotay seemed to be a very dignified man, not given to excessive chatter. She decided she approved of him. She could see why Janeway made the decision she did, and why Tuvok was able to work well with him despite that breach in protocol. They must have made a good command team. After all, the two, with Tuvok's help, had managed to bring most of their people home safely. Even during peacetime in the Alpha Quadrant, few captains could command their ships for long without enduring the pain of casualties.

 

Another stir at the doorway drew T'Pel's attention. Four more adults, civilians by their dress, entered the mess hall, accompanied by a child several years older than Aimee Gilmore. T'Pel heard Tuvok's sudden intake of breath as he rose out of his seat and approached them, holding out his hands as the party of Vulcans crossed the room. Many of those in the mess hall raised their heads in surprise at Tuvok's action, although T'Pel was relieved to see him greet the new arrivals.

 

As Tuvok picked up his granddaughter T'Meni for the first time, T'Pel felt the warmth of an emotion she did nothing to conceal. Sek and his wife Varin touched Tuvok gently on the shoulder as he held their daughter. Behind them, Varith and Elieth approached and put their arms around their father and siblings. Asil jumped up to join their group hug.

 

Just because Vulcans work very hard to control their emotions, it does not mean they are absent. They are so strong, firm control is necessary to bear them. T'Pel suspected everyone in the room could feel the wash of filial love emanating from her family. She considered joining them but ultimately decided to remain where she was. She had renewed her marital bond with Tuvok the previous day. This was a time for him to reestablish his bond with his descendants.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, T'Pel noticed Mr. Paris and his wife gazing at each other. Both seemed a bit misty eyed. The husband and father encircled his wife with his long arms, with baby Miral nestled within their close embrace. When Mr. Paris looked up, however, he became conscious of the other pair of eyes upon him.

 

T'Pel was watching Lieutenant Paris, to whom she believed she owed much. She nodded her head slowly, gravely, a gesture used by Vulcans to display honor to another. Her facial expression was a soft one as she whispered a sincere, "Thank you."

 

Lieutenant Paris looked puzzled for a moment, but then he understood. "You are very welcome," he responded, just as softly and sincerely. He knew. Without his assistance, this precious family moment might never have taken place.

 

T'Pel's sensitive hearing heard a comment from Captain Janeway to Chakotay, who were standing nearby. "It's going to work out, Chakotay," she'd said. "It's got to. I just know it."

 

T'Pel fervently agreed.

 

=/\=

 

He stood on the small hill overlooking the farmstead, watching one of Bajor's moons rising even as, directly behind him, another was sinking below the horizon. Fresh, herbacious odors from   the many plants spreading on the slope below him filled his nostrils. He could not argue with Captain Benjamin Sisko's taste. The farm was a lovely, peaceful place, perfect for a retired Starfleet officer to call his forever home.

 

Idly, Tuvok wondered if any plants growing on this hill might be suitable for his collection. Perhaps Kasidy or Jake would know.

 

Although the house below was somewhat distant, his sensitive Vulcan ears enabled him to just barely hear the voices of his wife, his daughter, Sisko's wife, and Sisko's first born, Jake. While he could not discern any individual words, he knew they were continuing a conversation from earlier that afternoon, which had begun shortly after their arrival at the farm. They were sharing memories of Captain Benjamin Sisko. Kasidy was providing T'Pel and Asil with her own perspective on the last days of her husband's chronological existence, before he became one of the timeless Wormhole aliens who dwelled in the Celestial Temple.

 

If the suppression of emotion by Vulcans was confusing for those not of that race, how to explain the way of life of the aliens of the Wormhole? Tuvok had spent many hours of study, in between mind meld therapy sessions with Asil, trying to understand exactly what these aliens were and how they actually lived their lives--if they were in fact biologically alive at all, that is. Some of his studies indicated a controversy over whether they fit that distinction.

 

Since his wife had befriended the commander of Deep Space Nine when Tuvok's own fate had been unknown, he had tried to "catch up" on what had occurred on the station and in the Alpha Quadrant during his prolonged absence on _Voyager_. Much of what he discovered was so painful, he was forced to exercise the many techniques he had learned long ago in adolescence to control his emotional reactions. Although the monks of Amonak had declared his mind healed of the _fal-tor-voh_ over a month ago, he could not deny his experience of that condition had forced him to reconsider how he now handled distractions and emotional reactions. Such adjustments might be necessary on a permanent basis. No one seemed able to tell him if this was true.

 

T'Pel sometimes teased him that he had "grown younger" from his therapy. "Perhaps your daughter's youth was catching," she had declared, with her eyes twinkling, belying the very solemn expression she bore on the rest of her face.

 

He sometimes regretted the friendship that had arisen between his wife and Mr. Paris, although he fully understood its genesis. It had obviously had an effect on T'Pel. Just such a _bon mot_ could be expected to issue from the mouth of the pilot/medic, who had recently been promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

 

Another side effect of his experience with the _fal-tor-voh_ had been the need to spend time on his own on a regular basis. Every day he required a period of silent reflection, no matter where he was, to maintain his composure. To this end, Tuvok had excused himself from the gathering at the farm to take a twilight walk.

 

Tuvok himself had no memories of Benjamin Sisko. He had never met the man during his two day sojourn on Deep Space Nine, while he waited to board the ill-fated _Val Jean_ for his undercover assignment. What knowledge he had of the station commander had been gained from mind melds with this wife and with Asil, during their therapy sessions. They had nothing but favorable impressions of the man. Sisko had treated Tuvok's spouse and daughter with great respect and kindness during their interactions with him. Tuvok could not help but sense regret that he himself had never had the opportunity to get to know Sisko, but as an undercover plant in the Maquis, that would have been inadvisable. Any meeting with the station commander would have likely blown his cover story. Infiltrating the Maquis cell would have been compromised--for all the good that mission had accomplished. He had learned little of import before the Caretaker terminated his mission on the _Val Jean_. The only good thing that had come of it was that he was there to support Captain Janeway when the Maquis survivors transported onto _Voyager_.

 

He wanted to linger on that hill, to take in the quiet landscape and enjoy the tranquil evening. The air was delightfully cool; the scent in the air was almost intoxicating; but he could not, in good conscience, stay away from the rest of the group any longer. Slowly, Tuvok descended, with the mingled scent of life flowing all around him, more pungent with every step.

 

He entered the house as quietly as he could. Jake and Asil both looked up at the door as he entered, but T'Pel and Kasidy were discussing a delicious dinner Sisko and Jake had cooked for them during T'Pel's second visit to the station. That was after Tuvok's means of survival had become public knowledge, and it had been something of a celebration. As Tuvok settled into an empty chair, he leaned back, with his legs outstretched before him. Resting his elbows on the chair's armrests, he joined his hands together by touching each of the fingers of one hand with its mate on the other. It was a relaxing way to sit, often favored by Mr. Paris when he was spending a quiet night on sickbay duty. Perhaps some sort of pressure points in the spine were soothed by the position. Tuvok resolved to look into the matter.

 

He knew his mind was wandering, but he did not think that mattered. After all, Tuvok had nothing to contribute to what the others were saying to each other at that particular point in time.

 

He almost did not notice the lull in the conversation when it came, but when he did, he realized a pair of deep brown eyes seemed to be studying him. When his own gaze met Kasidy's, she remarked softly, "You know, there is something about your husband that reminds me so much of Ben. I don't know if you really are as serene and thoughtful as you appear, Tuvok. I know Ben wasn't always, even though he often looked like it! But it's a comfort to me that your Tuvok is still around, T'Pel. That against all odds, he came back to you. It renews my faith that Ben will visit us again someday. Maybe live with us for a while again."

 

Kasidy looked towards her stepson Jake. He smiled pensively and said, "I see it, too. Sometimes."

 

Tuvok was nonplussed for a moment. There was but one answer he could give, under the circumstances. "I am honored."

 

The conversation resumed, and Tuvok resolved to pay greater attention to what was said, even though his own comments might be minimal. He already knew Ben Sisko was revered by the Bajorans as the Emissary. He was a hero of the Federation because he sacrificed his life in order to finally end a war. The Cardassians were now so busy trying to rebuild their society, which was almost obliterated by the Dominion before the war's ending, they no longer were stirring up trouble in this sector. The Founders of the Dominion had accepted Odo's assistance in curing them from a disease and were learning to accept the "solids" as beings who could be other than enemies. Tuvok could only wish this would continue.

 

The family Ben Sisko was forced to leave behind continued to be honored by the Bajorans, of course. Undoubtedly they always would be. This farm to which Sisko had meant to retire was a pleasant place. Someday, it would become a shrine to the Emissary. Of this, Tuvok had no doubt.

 

Still, Tuvok could sense an emptiness, a hole, which only a returned Benjamin Sisko could fill. Perhaps, Tuvok thought, the Emissary would return home to his wife, his children, and his farm one day, taking back the mantle of family patriarch he had to leave so prematurely.

 

Just as Tuvok had.

 

 

=/\=

 

The End (if there really ever is such a thing)

 

=/\=

 

 

 

_Author's Note:_

_"Pilgrimage" was my entry in the first Strange New Worlds fanfiction anthology contest. It didn't win, which actually turned out okay. While it would have been gratifying to become a paid, published author, as a couple of my Internet acquaintances did as a result of that contest, I was satisfied with the story. Eventually, I published it on my own website. A couple of details were changed later on (when I found out the actual number and gender of Tuvok's children and grandchildren, for example), but otherwise, I thought the story held up well during Star Trek: Voyager's seven season run. As far as I was concerned, the story was finished._

_After AOL ended web hosting and I lost my website, I published "Pilgrimage" on a few other fanfiction venues so people who were still interested in Star Trek fan fiction could read it. A few weeks ago, one reader suggested I continue the story._

_Now, lots of readers have literally begged me to continue one of my fanfiction stories. Usually, I do not comply because I don't have anything to add to the piece._

_Plot bunnies can come from the most innocuous comments, however, and in this case, one took root. I realized I'd told "Pilgrimage" without presenting anything from T'Pel's point of view. The entire story was told through the eyes of Sisko, Jake, and Odo as they observed her visit to Deep Space Nine. Somehow that didn't seem right, especially since T'Pel was always a shadow figure on the television series, too. I wanted to let her speak for herself for once. And since we know how_ Voyager _finally got home, thanks to "Endgame," as well as the eventual fate of Captain Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine's "What You Leave Behind," I realized there might be more to T'Pel's story after all._

_So here it is. Thank you, "_ framework4 _." Your comment on "Pilgrimage" sparked this sequel. Jeri Taylor's book Pathways was the source, not only of the names of Tuvok and T'Pel's children, but also Asil's ability as a very young child to "read" her father's mind. And I would be remiss if I did not thank all the wonderful writers of ST:DS9 and ST:Voyager, as well as the actors who so beautifully portrayed the characters, for continuing Gene Roddenberry's vision into another possible future._

_Oh, and I also have to state, for the record, that I don't own any of these characters or even a little piece of Star Trek, except for the echoes running around in my head. And I'm never going to be paid for any of that, you may be assured! So Paramount and company, I'm not worth coming after for copyright infringement! This is a tribute, not a money making venture!_ ;-)

_4/26/2017_


End file.
